#loads of trigger warnings tonight

[sappho-favourite-pupil]

Bitches have got to go back to therapy because of their toxic ex girlfriend, who felt it was a good idea to get upset and tell them it was impossible to "live this way", after they just had a sleep paralysis. And then proceeded to leave the room to go sleep on the couch, even though she knew damn well bitches suffered from sleep disorders as a consequence of traumatic past experiences. Hi, it's me, i am bitches.

[cookinguptales]

oh my god, I might literally throw a party. I might literally buy myself a cake tonight. thank you, thank you, thank you, Pete Buttigieg.

things that have happened to me specifically while flying american:

being asked to stand in a very long line to check my bag before they'd let me have access to a wheelchair

not being picked up by an attendant in time to get to my flight despite arriving over two hours early

being loaded into a broken accessible bathroom. the door wouldn't close all the way so my naked body was visible to people in the terminal.

being refused restroom access at all, sometimes for hours at a time. I'd say that this one happens about 80% of the time when I fly, especially when getting off the plane.

being denied stops for food at the airport as well

being left outside a restroom for over an hour because the attendant straight-up left. I had to TWEET AT THE AIRPORT FOR HELP because I knew being public was the only thing that would work.

being left on plane for over 45 minutes for the same exact reason. once off the plane, I was left at the gate for an additional hour. my parents, waiting for me at baggage, were frantic. a gate agent got into a screaming match with a wheelchair attendant. it was wild.

having a wheelchair attendant harass me about my homosexuality the entire time they took me through the airport; I'd just come from pride and had an identifying t-shirt. I couldn't get away from them or their lectures about being a good christian.

never being collected for a connecting flight, forcing me to walk or miss the flight. I dislocated my shoulder trying to get there.

once I was loaded onto a shuttle but no one bothered UNloading me, so I had to bang on the glass to get passersby's attention

not being preboarded a solid... I'd say 20% of the time. this is important because preboarding means I don't need to stand for an extended period in a narrow aisle behind people putting their things away, and also provides me with additional space to put away my accessibility devices.

once this happened because the wheelchair attendant was late (as usual) and the gate attendant assured me they'd hold the line so the aisle would be clear. once I got down there, they refused to do this and wanted me to stand for 15 minutes, which would have been incredibly painful while holding my bags. I refused to board until the aisle was clear, so they started directing passengers around my wheelchair. it was only after a passenger straight up refused to board and blocked everyone else that the aisle was cleared and I was allowed to board.

I have also had passengers break rules to take me to the bathroom when I was literally weeping at the gate from how badly I needed to pee and how much I did not want to publicly wet myself. thank you to those passengers. (and the ones that yell that I need to be preboarded when they "forget" to do so.)

I've been told to get off the plane because my wheelchair was there, but got off the plane to find out that it wasn't -- and they wouldn't let me back on the plane. they wanted me to walk to baggage, but I couldn't. I sat down on the filthy floor of the bridge and wouldn't move until they brought a wheelchair, no matter how much they yelled at me and threatened me with security. what a fucking mess.

they have given away my seat near the front of the plane before and forced me to walk to the back of the plane. I was openly sobbing from the pain by the time I made it back there.

things that have happened while flying in general (TSA, other airlines, etc.):

(trigger warning for sexual assault)

TSA giving you the most invasive pat-downs you can imagine. if you remain in your wheelchair, often they will run their hands under your thighs, bottom, and genitalia. the weight of your own body means that I have had fingers part my outer labia through my pants. one I started crying during a pat-down because I am a survivor of CSA and they yelled at me then restarted the pat-down from the top.

I have had attendants refuse to help me with my belongings during security, instead insisting that I get out of the chair and do it myself

I have had security make me get out of the chair, then lose the chair until my legs gave out and I sat on the floor, which also got me yelled at

broken accessible bathrooms have happened at MULTIPLE airports.

delta has broken not one but TWO of my personal wheelchairs

once while boarding an attendant (who was already mad at me because I'd refused to walk up the steep tarmac ramp without wheelchair assistance) grabbed my cane while I was using it and I almost fell. I was never notified that this would be a tarmac boarding to begin with.

once, during a different tarmac boarding, they expected us to go down a flight of stairs, despite me being loaded onto the plane via wheelchair. I would not go down the stairs and they had to call for the lift to be brought. it took about a half hour, and the entire time the attendants kept asking me if I really needed it and wouldn't I just go down the stairs? like I was just being a recalcitrant child and not someone who's broken her ankle stepping off a curb before.

honestly the refusal to let me eat and pee is pretty universal, as is wheelchair attendants ghosting me, refusing to talk to me, acting like they're transporting luggage instead of a person, etc.

believe it or not, that is not an exhaustive list. they're just the first examples that come to mind. whenever I fly and it goes completely smoothly, that's more of a shock.

and like... it's dehumanizing. it really is. not being allowed to go to the restroom? having people refuse to talk to you? being abandoned in random hallways?

I'm always in so much pain after I fly, a fact that is generally worsened by poor treatment at the airport, and even the literal dislocations have hurt less than being treated like I'm less of a human person than my fellow passengers.

so uh. rock on, Buttigieg. fine them into fucking oblivion. I'll be cheering you on the whole way.

[lovexjoe]

How would Armando be if he thought the reader was sweet cute never hurt anyone or a fly but when they are partnered up to go on a mission she the opposite… please do this

Damsel In Distress

A.N: This one is gonna be fun! Y/N will be used as bait for a mission, but Armando doesn't realize she can hold her own. The karambit scene from Bad Boys For Life, Y/N takes the place of Armando with some dialogue changed. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nHQFzABygCI

Warnings: Violence, some fluffy fluff

Y/N POV

Armando and I have been arguing all morning and afternoon. I don't get what his problem is, he's treating me like a child.

"¿Estás loca? ¡No lo vas a hacer!" (Are you crazy? You're not doing it!)

"Im doing it and that's final!" You stormed out the house.

You guys haven't made things official yet and it's fights like this that reminds you this relationship might be a ticking timebomb. Since I've been partnered with him, he doesn't let me get in on ANY of the fun. I am talking I look like a damsel in distress even AMMO squad laughs about it.

"I think he has a crush on you. It's kinda cute" Kelly teases you as you finish up some of the files that needed to get done for the team. No one really knew what was happening behind the scenes.

"Thinks? Oh he definitely does" Rita says.

"I am sorry in advance that my son is a pain in the ass" Mike shakes his head.

"Advance? You a little late on the apology Mike. This boy been a pain in the ass since we partnered them up!" Marcus adds in.

Everyone chimes their opinion in till the room went silent due to Armando walking in.

"I don't think Y/N should be used as bait tonight, it's not safe" He leans against the wall with everyone trying to suppress their laughter.

Armando really does not know who you are. Yes, your exterior may look sweet and innocent, but out of the whole AMMO squad: you're the deadliest. Which is why you stick to the tech stuff until they really needed you. Mike and Marcus pulled him aside to have a talk: good luck cause he never listens.

Armando POV

This girl drives me insane. Someone as innocent and sweet as her just READY to jump in the fire. Mike and Marcus try to be the voice of reason, but I really wasn't trying to listen. If anything or anyone touches a hair on her head, I'm putting a bullet through them and not thinking twice.

"Mando listen, I understand and I am genuinely surprised that you care, but I promise just stay on standby and watch from the overhead." Armando shoots Mike a glare knowing he wasn't going to win this one regardless so he decided he'll just be on sniper watch.

As it started to get dark outside, we loaded up everything we needed. Y/N was geared up and she looked gorgeous. This women drives me completely insane, but I'd do anything for her. We parked in our hideout spot and started exiting out the van. I grabbed Y/N's hand.

"Listen, just signal me if you need help. " I pulled her close and placed a kiss on her forehead, then proceeded to set up my sniper in the designated area.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚❋ ❋ ❋˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚❋ ❋ ❋˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Y/N walks to the pinpoint location, meeting up with the drug dealers. She brought her favorite little karambit with her. She warned Marcus and Mike that it might get bloody. These idiots knowing she's a female they're going to try to ambush her. Mike said as long as the leader isn't killed, everything else goes under the radar.

"Karina!" The leader calls out cheerfully. You drop the bag filled with fake money on the floor ignoring his gesture for a hug. Armando lurking from his position, taking quick glimpses of how gorgeous you looked right now.

"We're so sorry to have to do this to you Karina. But your services are no longer needed" 6 men started to slowly close in on you. Armando positions his finger on the trigger, ready to take the leader out and fuck this whole case up. Your safety means more than any case and he'd gladly go back to prison for you. Right as he's about to pull the trigger, Mike says over the intercom to just sit back and enjoyed the show. Armando was confused as you snatched the gun from the leaders hand, placing a bullet in each of his knees and uppercutting him: knocking him out cold. Nap time! You took out your karambit and everything went black. You didn't know what happened in between, but when you came back to your senses your karambit was shoved into the mouth of one of this drug dealer's minions. With 6 bloody bodies surrounding you. You turned to Armando and said

"Oops" You wink.

"That's what im talking about!" Mike and Marcus cheered. Rita and the rest of the AMMO squad came out to wrap everything up. You headed back to the van. Armando was shocked for sure. Turned on? Majorly. Sweet and innocent was DEFINITELY not the words used to describe you anymore. You heard the door of the van open, seeing its your favorite partner in the world.

"You okay mami? I don't want any problems." He slowly creeps in with his hands up, teasing you.

"Yes I'm fine" You chuckled as he pulls you close.

"Yes, you most definitely are" He leans down placing a kiss on your lips.

[starkitxxz]

Crave you like a drug🎄💊

Sol x gn!reader

HAPPY HOLIDAYS FELLOW READERS AND TO EVERYONE CELEBRATING THIS DAY! I might be a little late but oh well... *proceeds to drop the trigger warnings

TW: DRUGGING, vague mentions of stalking and somnophilia, mentions of private parts, sexual themes, implied NONCON S3X, [Reader] is a virgin

Not suitable for minors, proceed with caution.

Wc: 3.2k

“Keep it hidden, and do whatever you want. Just be careful.” He said as he handed out what his friend needed.

“But I’ve been craving them so badly-”

“Do you want to make it riskier for you?”

“I- Fine. I’ll be careful.”

“Good.” 

♡♡♡

You flick the switch of the heater, warm light beginning to radiate heat from its vents. 

The once cold, lifeless room was filled with holiday decorations. Wreaths and colorful lights brought the place to life. A medium-sized Christmas tree was placed on the corner of the room, cute little ornaments stacked on its artificial leaves. Even though it wasn’t as big as those you see online, it was enough to make you feel the holiday spirit.

You flopped down on the couch and switched the TV on with the remote, wearing Sol’s soft jacket that you kept since he gave it to you a few days ago. You treasured it like it’s something special to you, something that can shield you from an icy blizzard. 

The reporter on the screen held her microphone in the middle of the sidewalk. Snowflakes continued falling as it clumped up into a small pile of snow, as if a pile of autumn leaves were replaced by frozen stardust. The reporter adjusted her fluffy hat, bringing the microphone close to her face.

“As of tonight, the temperature of this month’s winter season will change from 8 degrees celsius to 6 degrees celsius–Along with a mild snowstorm in- [static]”

The channel switched the moment it lost signal, you hoped the snowstorm she was talking about won’t affect this town. Lowering the TV volume, you wondered what would happen to you if you denied Mr. Z’s offer. You’d die of hypothermia by now. You can’t afford to struggle in this piercing cold weather alone, you’re doing this for the sake of your family and your home.

A breeze of cool air brushed against the side of your face, and you shivered at the sensation. Looking to your right, you see your window slightly open. It welcomed the chilling breeze inside your comfy abode.

You might need to buy another lock again.

You stood up from the soft cushion and closed the window shut, keeping the cold wind away from your room.

You caught a glance of your snowy surroundings. Trees were drained of its leaves from the freezing temperature, leaving it in a lifeless, chilly state. Street lamps and stores gleamed with glowing LED lights, flickering with different vibrant colors, with holiday decors plastered on glass panels and brick walls.

There were families reunited and bonding together in joy, couples clinging to each other like a matching puzzle set—afraid of losing each other amidst the snow filled town.

You wonder what your friends are doing, especially this Christmas Eve. They must be hanging out with their families right now. Semester break will only last for a few days, so it's worth every minute of family time.

You wished you could visit them this year. At least before a load of schoolwork.

You looked at your Christmas tree, noticing a present beside it, wrapped in shiny blue paper with a little snowflake on it.

Crowe’s present.

He gave it to you the day before, knowing he can’t drop by and visit your apartment. It’s a shame he couldn’t be here.

Or atleast, the friend group, except Deryl–He knocked on your door and placed a small yellow box on the ground. He didn’t hesitate to snatch some snacks as well. You didn’t mind though, he seemed like he was in a hurry.

When will someone stay the night here and celebrate the holiday with you-

Buzz. Your phone vibrated and the screen lit up, getting your attention.

You walked to the sofa and picked your phone up, a notification displaying on your homescreen.

Sol: Yo, are you free right now?

You type in your phone’s password and reply to his message.

You: Yeah, why?

Not a minute has passed til he replied back.

Sol: I was thinking of offering holiday treats to you, as a Christmas gift. Do you want some?

You: Sure, I could really use a midnight snack later

Sol: Okay, See you at 11?

You: Yup, I’ll wait

You check the time on your phone, 10:21PM displayed on the top left of your screen.

Sitting back down on the sofa, you lean back and stare at the ceiling.

♡♡♡

“I bought the cookies you asked for-”

Sol almost flinched from his spot, placing a hand on his chest from the sudden intrusion. 

“What the hell-”

“Relax, it’s still warm.”

Hyugo carefully placed the winter themed box of cookies on the pack of snow, as Sol continued to spy on you behind the snowy bushes. 

Hyugo knew Sol had done this every night, just to ‘look after’ his so-called soulmate. Hiding in the bushes or behind trees, holding a pair of binoculars as you minded your own business inside your apartment,oblivious to the fact your stalker is watching your every move.

Heck, maybe even when you’re changing clothes. His perverted, obsessed self would LOVE to see that

But of course, he won’t admit that. 

Hyugo cleared his throat, earning Sol’s attention once more–as snowflakes drifted slowly, covering the bare trees with cold flurry.

“Are you going to sit there and wait for them to fall asleep?”

“Maybe” Sol’s lips curved into a lovestruck smile, his thoughts wandering to the times where you slept so peacefully. The times where you were unaware of your surroundings, free from the chaos of reality, though your unconscious state was only temporary. 

It was only a matter of time before you woke up, yet, Sol managed to visit you late at night. Knowing you were in a vulnerable state, he took it as a chance to make every minute intimate and memorable to him. Every lingering kiss, every brush of his fingers, tracing your warm skin, remained as a reminder of his devotion to you.

To him, you’re a deity

And he will worship you like a devoted follower, a hopeless servant willing to offer everything for even an ounce of your love.

Like a prayer answered from the heavens above.

Hyugo sighed as he grabbed the cookie box. Sol raised an eyebrow at this but shook his thoughts away.

“Should I give the cookies to them or-”

“No, I’ll do it.” Sol got onto his feet, determined to meet you this time around. He hoped to see the face he admired the most.

Even after seeing you plenty of times every night.

“Alright, I’ll head home. Take care.” Hyugo handed the box to Sol, snow crunching beneath him as he walked away.

“Wait, did you add the-” 

“Yes. I did.” Hyugo responded and he glared at Sol, warning him of what he might do–though he can’t help but support Sol with his obsession over you only because of the deal they made.

Sol nodded, watching his friend disappear from his view, while he held the box of lukewarm cookies.

Sol cursed under his breath, he didn’t want you to receive cold cookies by the time he arrived–but then again, you could always heat it up.

Sol walked up the stairs to your apartment, the steps creaking underneath him. His mind was clouded with imaginable scenarios of what could happen with you and him alone. You and him, alone, in your apartment.

Hah, you have no idea…

Standing in front of your door, he knocked on the hard wooden material. He heard the sound of your footsteps approaching as he stood there, waiting.

You twist the doorknob and open the door, greeted by the tall figure before you. 

He wore a black hoodie, soft and comfortable enough to keep him warm in this harsh, frigid weather. He held a box of cookies, noticing the holiday themed designs when you took a peek–as well as the brand logo plastered on the plastic front cover of the container. All too familiar with the brand, you realize it’s from one of the delicious bakeries you went to!

The nostalgic scent of vanilla and cinnamon, friendly workers and their signature cinnamon buns, served with a cup of hot coffee–it made you wonder, does Sol buy pastries there? Or did he guess it’s your favorite bakery?

Whatever the answer is, you’re glad he bought you cookies from the bakery you love.

“Are these… from the Downtown Cinnamon cafe?” You asked, confirming your suspicion.

“Yes, I thought you would like it,” he replied with a soft smile, a faint blush forming on his cheeks.

“Like it? I love it! Thank you Sol” You smiled as you accepted the offer. “Please, come in”

Sol stepped into your house and closed the door behind him, examining the place. Wreaths, vibrant lights, cute reindeer stockings, all displayed on the walls. The faint smell of cozy vanilla and inaudible noises from the TV filled the room.

“Wow, you really put in the effort,” he commented, acting surprised at your winter themed decorations.

As if he hasn’t been spying on you for a while.

He’s seen you hang those bright string lights on your Christmas tree the day before Christmas eve, and when you bought the stockings from a nearby shop that costs less than $5.

“Do you want some hot chocolate? You must be shivering right now.”

“I’d love that,” Sol replied, and he felt his heartbeat quicken. 

As delusional it may sound, he will definitely appreciate a cup of hot chocolate, mainly because you made it yourself.

If it reminds him of you, he’ll happily take it.

If only something eventually reminded you of him too… 

You nodded and headed to the kitchen while Sol sat down on the sofa, the box of cookies set on the coffee table.

You place a kettle, half filled with water, on the lit stove, waiting for it to boil.

As soon as it whistles, you twist the knob off. 

You placed a black mug on the counter, grabbing a packet of hot chocolate powder and a pair of scissors, cutting a straight line across the plastic cover of the packet. You pour all of the packet’s powdery content into the empty mug, discarding the plastic after.

You fill the mug with hot water, combining the chocolate powder with it as it steams. 

You return to the living room, holding a small tray with a mug of hot chocolate with a spoon and a jar of soft marshmallows. 

“You can add marshmallows if you want,” You smiled as you placed the tray on the coffee table. Sol nodded at the suggestion, opening the jar of marshmallows and putting 2 of them in the drink, making a plop.

As you were about to sit beside him, you noticed something missing under the Christmas tree… wait, there’s one gift missing…

Rising up from your seat, you approach your Christmas tree and inspect it, and to your surprise, Crowe’s gift is missing.

“Uh… Sol, have you seen a square shaped present wrapped in a blue wrapper?” You asked as you began to search for it, failing to catch sight of the scowl on his face.

“No, I haven’t,” Sol replied, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. 

You cursed under your breath. You knew it was just under the tree, you didn’t move it somewhere else. 

Maybe you actually placed it somewhere else, it’s getting late already, but….

How will Crowe react when you tell him you lost his gift?

Letting out a sigh, you sat down beside him once more and glanced at the clock. It displayed 11:47PM, and you realize there’s still 13 minutes before Christmas. 

And you get to celebrate it with Sol.

“It’s almost time,” You uttered, gaining Sol’s attention as the scowl on his face disappeared, now displaying his calm facade. 

He looked at the clock, 11:49PM shown on the clock. He smiled, at the thought of celebrating the holidays with you. Looking back at his hot chocolate, he took another sip.

Suddenly, your stomach growled, only then you realized you didn’t eat properly for dinner. You were too busy with the decorations and sleeping the whole day, you didn’t have time to eat that much. Or maybe you just don’t feel like eating.

Whether you slept or slacked off whatsoever, you have to eat now. 

Good thing Sol brought those cookies.

You lean forward and open the lid of the box, the tasty smell of cinnamon from snickerdoodle cookies makes you want to eat it all. 

“It smells so delicious!” You exclaimed in delight as you grabbed a portion, taking a small bite. And you swore it’s one of the greatest cookies you’ve ever tasted.

You never knew they made the cookies this good, especially as a holiday treat. It melted in your mouth smoothly, tasting the vanilla and cinnamon as you chewed it into bits. It filled your tastebuds with delight.

Sadly it will disappear once Christmas is over.

Sol looked at you in a way he was surprised at your reaction, enjoying the taste of the cookies he bought for you. 

Thank goodness you like it…

Bet you’ll love what’s next…

“Is it good?” He asked and drank his hot chocolate halfway. He looked at you expectantly, as if he was waiting for either your response or for you to eat more of those cookies. 

You nodded, swallowing the melted cookie. A friendly smile was plastered on his lips, “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” 

The clock ticked till 11:54PM, a few more minutes until Christmas.

You grab another portion, and another one, enjoying the delicacy a bit too much. It just tasted so so good, and you weren't skilled enough to bake something like this. Something so sweet and tasty.

“Hey, save some for me,” Sol chuckled as he grabbed one for himself, taking a bite and letting out a satisfied hum.

By 11:58PM, the box was left empty as well as the mug of his hot chocolate. You licked your lips to gather any leftover crumbs around your mouth. Looking at the box, you can’t believe you actually ate it all.

“Damn, I’m so full,” You commented, overwhelmed by how appetizing the cookies are.

“Yeah, same,” Sol replied, often glancing at the clock every few seconds. 11:59PM.

“Are you sure you won’t go home yet? You keep looking at the time-”

“Yeah, I’m sure, I just need to… do something…” 

“Do what?” You looked at him confused, until a sudden gush of warmth fueled your body, putting you in a relaxed state as your muscles loosened.

Strange, it’s so hot here…

“Mmh… I feel a bit weird right now…” you said as you leaned back on the couch, letting the soft cushion absorb you. 

You can’t help but feel… excitement.

Heat coursed through your core, burning with lust. A strong sense of wanting to be satisfied, thirsty for intimacy. Your heart rate rapidly increased every second.

49…

“Are you okay? You look like you're in a haze there…” Sol asked as he scooted closer, reaching a hand out to check if you’re on the right mind. 

It must be something I drank- no, maybe it was the cookies… You thought, as you began to crave fulfilling your desires. But not in front of Sol, at least not now.

43…

“Y-Yeah, I-Im fine…” You managed to stutter, grasping the soft material of the sofa cushion with your hands.

“Are you sure-”

40…

“I-I feel… so… fuck…” You tighten your fists on the cushion. Wild, inappropriate thoughts ran around your disoriented mind.

Sol looked at you with a sly smile, “what do you feel, pumpkin?”

36…

“I-I don’t know,” you replied as you felt your arousal growing. A feeling of your crotch yearning to be touched. A feeling resulting in risking your own purity. 

You look at Sol, his red-orange irises locking onto yours. 

When did he look so fucking… attractive…?

31…

“You seem a little dizzy there,” He said as his warm breath hit your ear, his face ever so slightly close to you.

29…

“Do you need help letting it all out, darling?”

27…

You shook your head, “N-No, I-” 

He cuts you off, “You’re unusually hot.”

He brushes the back of his hand on your cheek lightly, warmth coming into contact with his hand.

The effect is working.

Seems like he doesn’t need to add any more substances.

23…

You gulped and gazed at his lips, fuck, why does it look tempting?

Whatever it is, it feels so thrilling.

It makes you feel so alive, so eager, so inclined to just kiss him right here right now.

But it feels so wrong…

Sol noticed your focus on his lips, a chuckle escaped his mouth. He loved the way you were reacting right now, like he planned it all out. He planned all of this just to give you more of his undivided love.

And why care if the neighbors heard you and him?

“What are you looking at, pumpkin-”

Suddenly, you clutched both of his wrists and pinned him down above the sofa, as it let out a squeak.

Sol’s eyes widened at the sudden move, but his reaction quickly turned into lust. He was longing for this just as you are.

He has been waiting for this reaction from you. 

It’s almost unbelievable how a fine amount of aphrodisiac can affect you, and most especially, your own body.

14…

“Oh darling, you have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting this,” Sol confessed with lovestruck and lustful admiration. The tent in his pants was almost evident as he locked eye contact with you.

“You’re practically aching for me aren’t you?” He whispered in your ear seductively.

10…

“Maybe…” You replied back and leaned closer, your body roughly touching against his–yet, you desire to feel all of him.

8…

“Maybe?” He raised a brow, smirking at your response. He has full control on you, despite your conscious yet hazy state, the effects will last for a while. After all, he wanted to make this as special as possible.

A blush crept up to your face, lost in the thought of his lips meeting yours. The very thought of it made you turned on-

4…

You held both sides of his face, letting his bound wrists free as you pressed your lips against his. He feels how desperate you are for this, how you’ve been craving him ever since the drug affected you. He wanted this too. 

3…

He yearned for this, he yearned to claim his soulmate’s lips as his–but when will you realize? When will you finally realize you’re bound to him by soul…?

For now, he will take advantage of your vulnerable, needy state.

2…

His hand ran through your locks and pulled your head closer, deepening the kiss. His heart pounded against his ribs, feeling your rapid heartbeat as well. Overjoyed by the sensation of your lips, he slid his free hand underneath your shirt.

1…

Breaking the kiss, he whispered, “Happy holidays, pumpkin.”

0…

Before you could react, your shirt is lifted over your torso.

♡♡♡

Imagine what happens next lmao

[imtryingbuck]

Peanut

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky won’t be home tonight. He just hopes his girl knows how much he loves her.

Word count: 1,616

Warnings: angst. some more angst. death. swearing.

Masterlist

It wasn’t meant to be like this, it was meant to be a straight forward mission get in and get out that’s what Fury said, not with the majority of the team fighting with their bare fists against guns.

Bucky looked to his left after hearing Natasha cry out in pain, her hand going straight to her thigh where blood was seeping through the crevices of her fingers. Another deafening gunshot one after the other. He hears Sam groaning in pain as he crashed into the ground after he had been shot down.

The chaos surrounding him had his mind spiralling in confusion. He didn’t know who to go to save first. He didn’t know where Steve was. His right side was throbbing. He just wanted to go home to his love and cuddle up in bed whilst watching shitty tv programs with his fingers threading through her soft hair.

These agents weren’t backing down in the slightest, every time he blinked he swore that the number of said agents grew. Bucky heard Steve ordering the team to retreat Nat gave Bucky a confused look which he shrugged but complied with his best friends request.

“SHIELD agents are here” Steve panted down his comms trying to fight off his opponents.

With the extra back up they were now gaining the upper hand.

After what felt like hours but realistically was only twenty minutes tops all Hydra agents were down, those still breathing were being handcuffed and already being loaded on the jets.

As Natasha, Sam, Wanda were getting patched up Bucky, Steve and Tony made their way through the now destroyed base to look for what they originally came for. Steve eyed Bucky up and down noticing that his right hand was pressing down on his right side.

“Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just a graze”

“That’s not just a graze tinman” Tony says also eyeing up Bucky’s side.

“I’m fine. Come on let’s get this done” Steve and Tony share a look of concern behind Bucky’s back watching the man starting to lean on his left side to make it easier for himself.

Just as Bucky turned the corner his foot stood on something making a beeping noise, looking down he swallowed. “Steve”

“What’s up?”

“C-can you go and get my phone off the jet”

“Huh? Why?” The blond looked at Tony who shrugged in response.

“Ju-just get me my phone please, please Steve”

“Okay-“

“I’ll get it Cap” Tony says before flying off to the jet. Steve made his way to where he knew Bucky had gone.

“Stop! Stop Steve”

“Buck what’s going on?”

“I-I’ve erm I’ve triggered a bomb I think” Bucky admits with his head downwards trying to find a wire in hopes that someone could deactivate the thing.

“Buck…”

“I know okay I know. I can’t find the wire but I-I know it’s bad alright”

Neither one of the super soldiers realise that the rest of the team including SHIELD agents could hear the conversation through their comms. Tony’s feet faltered when he was heading towards Bucky’s duffle. Nat squeezed Wanda’s hand, Sam closed his eyes and Steve looked around desperately hoping he could see a wire or something to deactivate the bomb he could see under his best friends boot.

Back at the shared home you shared with Bucky you was getting all the ingredients for Bucky’s favourite meal. The loud buzzing of your phone startled you from its place on the counter.

“Hey babe, you on your way home? I’m making your favourite dinner tonight, why? Because I love you. How was the mission? Everyone’s okay aren’t they? Buck?” You rambled, excited to talk to him, it wasn’t until you noticed that he was completely silent on the other end. You pulled your phone away from your ear and checked to see if the call dropped but it didn’t. “Buck?”

“Hi baby”

“Are you-“

“I love you, you know that don’t you?”

“I do, Buck wha-“

“I love you more than anything, please don’t ever forget that okay”

“Bucky what’s going on? Are you hurt? Is Steve with you? What-“

“Baby I-I’m not going to make it home tonight”

“No no no you are alright, don’t be silly babe. You’ll come home to me a-and I’ll take care of you and you’ll be okay-“

“Love, listen to me, I’m not, god I wish I was but it’s not happening b-but listen I love you a-and I love Peanut please tell them that, promise me that you’ll tell them, baby please”

Gasping for air as your airways started to close up you nodded completely forgetting he couldn’t see you, with a painful rasp you promised him that you would keep your promise.

The team shared glances at hearing Bucky’s mention of Peanut, unaware of what he was talking about. Due to Steve’s enhanced hearing his heart broke at hearing your voice sounding broken.

“I love you Y/n. I love you” Bucky repeated softly as the tears streamed down both of your faces.

“Steve?”

“I-I’m here mate”

“You need to get ev-everyone out of here, now. I-I can’t hold on any longer”

“B-Buck, Sam can get you out-“

“He can’t and you know it. It-it won’t work alright, no point in two families grieving. But Stevie you need to pro-promise that me that you’ll take care of Y/n, please I don’t want her to be left alone”

“Bucky if you hold on for five minutes Sam can get you out-“ Tony says as he tried to fix the right wing that had been damaged earlier that day.

“I don’t have five minutes. Okay I-I don’t have that alright, please you all need to leave”

“Buck-“

“Leave! Just get everyone out of here, please Steve”

“O-okay. Okay everyone get out, now.” The agents start leaving but the Avengers don’t. Tony was still trying to fix Sam’s wing, getting frustrated as the wires and pieces weren’t connecting properly, even Tony’s suit was too damaged to use. None of them wanted to leave him alone.

“Steve, it’s okay. It’s okay just promise to look after Y/n, you’ve only have a few minutes left to get out so please guys, just go.”

Reluctantly they do as he says, knowing that it was no use arguing with him. Both Sam and Tony have to drag Steve out as he refused to move, to leave him best friend to die.

“W-we’re outside Buck” Steve says through his comms, standing far enough away from the base he clinged onto Tony’s arm.

“Good. Baby are you still there? Hey, hey it’s okay, everything’s going to be okay I swear. I love you and Peanut so fucking much baby. I’m sorry princess, I really am. Baby? I have to go now alright, I love you” everyone bowed their heads at hearing Bucky’s words.

Bucky closes his eyes and smiles softly as the last image he’s ever going to see is of his greatest love. Slowly he moves his foot off the bomb.

Steve tried to keep up his promise but it wasn’t working as Y/n kept pushing him away. He understood that she was grieving but so was he but he also made a promise to his best friend. He couldn’t let Bucky down.

A month after that fateful day it was time to bury the remains of Bucky’s body. The team went back into the base after the smoke and fire cleared, all disobeying the direct orders from Fury, they refused to leave without Bucky. It wasn’t fair on him or on Y/n. For the first time in that month they had seen her, she didn’t answer their phone calls or answered the door when they went to the apartment she shared with Bucky.

As they stood by the side of the coffin watching as it went into the ground, Y/n looked up to the sky and smiled sadly. They all noticed her hand placement.

“Y/n, a-are you?” Steve asked.

“Four months, Buck wanted to tell you but I told him it was too soon. I-it was three months the day, that day, anyway that’s why he was retiring, he wanted to be there for Peanut” she said softly.

“H-he was retiring?”

“He gave Fury his notice, he only had a week left before he retired”

The news of hearing that he only had one week left made their stomachs hurt. He was so close to being free from fighting and raising a family with his love.

“Y/n-“

“Don’t apologise okay, I know he’s still here with us. Please don’t be strangers alright? I’ll see you around” Before they could reply she was already walking away from them.

As she gave birth she had Steve on one side and Wanda on the other, both ignoring the throbbing pain in their hands as she squeezed them.

“He’s gorgeous Y/n, what’s the little man’s name?” Nat asked as soon as they were allowed in the room to see the newest member of their family.

“Buck said if the baby was a boy he wanted him to be named after him so, James Stevie Barnes”

Nobody was aware that the Bucky was in the room, he stood at the bottom of the bed watching with admiration in his eyes at his love with her arms around their son. His arm on the shoulder of his mom Winnie. The two stood there long after everyone had left, Y/n and baby James had gone to sleep.

Placing a kiss to his son’s head he told him that he would always watch over him. Moving to the bed he did the same to Y/n.

“I love you both forever”

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[bellaxgiornata]

How Far Does it Go; When Does it End?

Pairing: Matt Murdock x depressed!fem!Reader Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings/tags: 18+; depiction of depression, suicidal ideation if you squint, confession of feelings, and angst with a hopeful ending [please don't read if any of this could be triggering]

Summary: It's been weeks that you've just been going through the motions day by day. But when you decline yet another invitation to Josie’s with your friends, a worried Matt takes it upon himself to check up on you.

a/n: This one is a little bit depressing because I've been going through some things and have been craving angst, but I promise the ending is hopeful. As mentioned in the tags, please don't read if you believe it might be triggering. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

tag list: @1988-fiend @geminadeckerwritesstuff @flowher @sleepysleepymom @kezibear @writtenbyred @moncherriis @a-half-empty-g1rl @beezusvreeland @da3m0nsneverstop

Unsure how long you'd been sitting there entranced by the snow steadily accumulating along the tops of the parked cars lining the street below, you stared at the flurry of snowflakes blowing outside of the window. Tonight Hell's Kitchen was set afire by the orange glow of its street lights, the haunting warmth of them reflecting off of the snow banks. A few cars were carefully making their way through the mess of slush and ice along the road, otherwise it seemed bleak and lifeless in the city this evening.

Personally you’d always hated how little sunlight there was during the winter months. On weekdays you rose in the mornings to get ready for work before the sun had even risen. By the time you'd even managed to leave the office after work, the sun had already set. For you, most days this time of year passed by with you barely seeing more than a sliver of sunlight–because your small cubicle certainly didn't have any windows. And it wasn't likely that you would ever find yourself working anywhere with an actual view.

Resting your forehead against the chilled glass of your living room window, you released a nearly inaudible sigh as you stared out into the blackness of the night. You probably should have been doing a number of other things right now–cleaning up the dishes that had piled in your sink, taking your growing load of laundry to the laundromat a block over, or even compiling a grocery list to stock your empty fridge. But instead you just sat there leaning over the armrest of your couch, losing count of how many taxis you'd seen skid across the icy road while imagining what it might feel like if one of them just lost control and careened straight into you on the crosswalk below. 

You were so far tucked into your mind that when a dark shape dropped down onto your fire escape mere inches from your face, you had barely even reacted. Instead your eyes slowly rose up, your gaze gradually trailing its way up along the black-clad figure. Though you didn't need to see the mask covering the man's face to know who'd just landed on your fire escape. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen–or rather, one of your best friends and the subject of your unrequited affections, Matthew Murdock.

“Do you mind?” Matt's muffled voice came from outside, a hand gesturing to the window. “It's kind of cold out here.”

Pushing yourself away from the glass, you rose from the couch and stepped over to the window, reaching up and unlatching the locks. You began to slide the window up as high as it could go before stepping aside to let Matt in. A frigid gust of air and a flutter of snowflakes followed behind him as he slipped through the opening.

Sinking back into the same spot on your couch without a word, you watched as Matt turned and shut the window after himself. A dusting of snow sat along his muscular shoulders, the white a sharp contrast to all of his black. For a moment all you could do was stare at the little flecks of white, watching as they slowly began to disappear, melting into the darkness.

The sound of Matt clearing his throat broke through your daze, pulling you back to reality. He looked good standing in your living room wearing his makeshift vigilante costume. Honestly a part of you hated whenever he stopped by your apartment dressed like this solely for that reason. Because it physically pained you to look at him, especially as you watched him reach a gloved hand up to remove the mask from off of his head, the cloth giving way to reveal his face. 

He was still the most beautiful thing in your life.

“Hey,” Matt greeted, sounding slightly winded. He tossed his mask onto your coffee table, running a hand through his mussed hair as he strode towards the couch to take a seat beside you. “We missed you at Josie’s tonight.”

You fought down the doubtful scoff at his comment. It seemed highly unlikely that Matt, Karen, and Foggy had truly missed your melancholic presence at the bar tonight. The three of them could often hold full conversations before they even remembered you were silently sitting at the table with them. Which was partly why you hadn't felt like meeting them again tonight for drinks, because you were tired of feeling like the often forgotten fourth wheel of the group. 

You shrugged weakly. “Wasn't in the mood for Josie’s,” you simply said.

“Seems you haven't been in the mood for Josie’s for awhile,” Matt gently pointed out. “It's been weeks since you last joined us there.”

“Oh,” you replied.

Truthfully you didn't know exactly how long it had been since you'd last met them all there for drinks after work. The days had all blurred together lately. Maybe that explained why Matt had been so persistent on the phone when he'd called after work and continued to try and convince you to join them. But even he didn't succeed.

“Is everything alright with you?” Matt asked, his brows creasing together as his eyes fixed somewhere around your chin. “Because you seem…distant lately. Quieter than usual.”

“I'm always quiet,” you countered.

“Yes, well,” Matt said, shooting you one of his charming smiles meant to ease the tension in the room. “You seem like you're even more lost in thought than usual.”

You shrugged again before slumping back into the couch cushions. “Is that so wrong?”

The frown on Matt's mouth deepend further. “Depends,” he answered.

“On what?” you asked.

You noticed his brief hesitation, the slight pause as his head titled just a bit to the side. His eyes were scanning you now, traveling around the space you occupied beside him. 

You knew what he was doing. Reading you. Reading your body with his senses in a way that only he could. Usually that made you uncomfortable whenever you caught him doing it because you were uncertain what he might learn–like your feelings for him. So generally you called him out on it. But not tonight. Tonight you just…didn't have the energy for it.

“It depends on what you're thinking about,” Matt finally answered.

“Nothing really,” you told him. 

Matt's shoulders dropped at your response, the corners of his lips twitching downwards. You caught the way his eyes tightened in something akin to frustration. It was obvious what was coming next–the patented Matthew Murdock attempt to pry too hard for answers. Though fortunately for you he wouldn't be using his fists to get them. 

“Talk to me,” Matt ordered, shifting on the couch to face you more fully. “What's going on? Why are you shutting yourself off from everyone?”

You pulled a face at the accusation. “That’s not what I’m doing,” you argued. “Besides, isn’t that the kettle calling the pot black or something?” 

“You've been avoiding all of us for weeks,” Matt pointed out, ignoring your attempt to divert his attention. “Always making some excuse not to come out, or that you’re too tired for anyone to stop over. And you've been ignoring all of our calls.”

“I have not,” you disagreed. “I spoke to you on the phone earlier tonight.”

“Yeah,” Matt swiftly agreed with a nod. “But that was only because I called you about eight times before you finally answered.” 

His lips pursed tight together, looking as if he was internally conflicted for a second like there was more he wanted to say. You wondered why he’d even hesitated because in all the time you’d known Matt, he wasn’t usually the type to hold his tongue. 

“I've noticed you're always in your bed when I pass by at night,” he finally said. “Earlier than when you’d usually go to sleep. And I know you're not actually sleeping.”

Your chest tightened at the knowledge that Matt had been checking in on you in the evenings without you knowing. How much had he overheard while you’d been in your apartment? 

Eyes dropping down to your hands, you began to nervously pick at your fingernails. “I have a hard time falling asleep,” you mumbled.

“I can smell the tears,” Matt told you. “Even from outside your apartment. You can't hide them from me. For weeks now I've noticed you lying in bed just crying at night.” He paused, shaking his head and briefly wincing before he continued. “Something is going on and you're shutting us out. I'm not stupid. I know what you're doing. So just–just tell me what's going on. Please.”

You contemplated lying even though you knew he'd be able to tell. Then you contemplated making up something just to get him to stop asking questions. You even contemplated telling him off for eavesdropping before cursing him out for invading your privacy. But what surprised you was how you felt compelled to just tell him the truth. Because you were just too damn tired to do anything else.

“Why?” you asked weakly. “Why do you want to know?”

Matt’s entire face tightened, looking as if he was offended you'd even asked him that. Then seconds later his expression abruptly shifted to irritation and you braced yourself at the sight of it.

“Because I care about you!” he snapped, his frustration finally coming out. “We all do! And we're concerned about you! How do you not get that?”

You flinched at the volume of his voice, shrinking in on yourself on the couch. Matt had never spoken to you like that before and it had taken you by surprise. Clenching your jaw tighter, you began to pick faster at your nails. Beside you Matt released a sigh, his head dropping down towards his chest as one of his gloved hands reached up, the heel of it rubbing at his temple.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’m just worried, okay? I didn’t mean to yell. I just want to help.”

“Sometimes you can’t.”

The words had slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them. Like a knee-jerk reaction. Out of your peripheral you saw Matt’s head raise up again, his eyes landing near you on the couch. You froze, your fingers halting their fidgeting.

“What?” he asked softly. 

“Sometimes you can’t,” you repeated. “Sometimes there's people you can’t help, Matt.”

His eyes narrowed back at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tongue feeling heavy in your mouth as you tried to swallow back the lump forming in your throat, you knew there was no turning back now. He’d only pry harder if you tried to push him away at this point. Being as stubborn as Matt was, you wouldn’t put it past him to sit on your couch until the sun came up waiting for you to tell him what he wanted. 

So with a heavy sigh, you finally gave in.

“Do you ever feel like you're just…making it?” you hesitantly asked Matt.

Finally tearing your eyes from your hands, you looked in his direction, though your gaze didn't quite land on him. Rather it hovered somewhere just over his shoulder as you stared at a patched over spot on the wall. Ever since you'd moved here you’d often wondered how it had gotten there. 

“How so?” he questioned.

“Like you're just getting by–day to day, week to week?” you explained. “As if your life isn't actually going anywhere? Like you're barely holding it together and you're just one little thing from it completely falling apart? And maybe you’ve finally just, I don’t know, become numb to the fear of that happening? Because who cares, really. What does it matter?” 

Matt shifted a bit closer to you on the couch, moving slow and careful like he didn’t want to startle you. “Is that how you’ve been feeling? Like things don’t matter?”

Your eyes slid over from the patched up space on the wall and finally landed back on Matt’s face. You recognized the look there instantly. Genuine concern was written in the way his eyes were pinched tight and fixed along your chest; the firm set of his lips as his head tilted marginally to the side proving how gravely invested he was in the conversation. It was the same way he looked whenever he was intensely focused on someone out in Hell's Kitchen in need of help. You’d seen it on his face in the past when he was here as the Devil, right before he’d jump out of your window to go find whoever it was that needed him. 

But right now he was using that look on you. The gravity of it had you sitting there with your lips parted feeling like you were on the verge of either fully opening up or completely closing yourself off to him. 

And then, somehow all at once, everything poured forth from you like a teetering cup finally spilling over.

“I mean I get up, brush my teeth, get ready for work, see all the neverending and overwhelming terrible shit on the news in the morning like that's normal while I drink down a massive coffee just to survive the day. Then I go to work, smile at all the right moments, make inane small talk while feeling utterly invisible busting my ass knowing that I'm never getting that damn promotion let alone a pay raise just so I can afford to actually live out here,” you continued, everything you'd been holding back just falling out of you in a rush of words. “Then I what? Go home and cook and eat and wash the dishes and go to bed? Except going to sleep is a chore. Trying to quiet my mind is exhausting. Facing the same demons in my sleep night after night is too much. And then,” you said, aware that Matt's face had fallen, his hands gently gripping your knees even though you hadn't felt when he'd actually grabbed them, “the morning comes.”

When you didn't elaborate further Matt's head curiously tilted to the side.

“Isn't that good?” he questioned. 

“Is it?” you asked in return. 

There was a long pause, a silence filled with so many unspoken words. As you sat there staring at Matt, you could see the thoughts racing in his mind. You kept quiet as you wondered which one would eventually win out. Because you knew Matt. You knew he'd have something to say. But for some reason that also scared you a little.

When he finally spoke he said your name, the sound of it different than usual as it rolled off of his tongue–somehow tender and delicate. It took you entirely off guard, something stirring within you at the way he'd spoken it. There was an emotion struggling to break past the dam that had been staving your feelings off for weeks now, but you chose to push it back down in the moment. With your own mind spiraling, you continued on.

“There’s like this–this emptiness,” you confessed. “It’s heavy but it feels like nothing at all. You know? And it just sits right here–” You laid a hand flat across your chest, noticing the tears building in Matt’s eyes as they followed the movement. “It’s like there’s a hole. Like a blackhole just sucking everything into it lately. Everything . And I can’t do anything about it. Do you know what I mean? It’s just there .” 

You paused, licking your lips as you felt the heaviness of that metaphorical blackhole in your chest weighing you down even now. It wasn’t until Matt’s hands gripped your knees tighter that you remembered he was still touching you.

“It’s just always there,” you said, slowly losing momentum. “And I’m just left wondering how far does that emptiness go? Does it ever end?”

A long, heavy silence filled the room when you’d finally quieted. Gaze dropping down to Matt’s gloved hands still gripping your knees, you suddenly found yourself feeling ridiculous for having spilled all of that to him. You’d never gotten that personal with Matt before, certainly not about your struggles with depression. And now here you’d just dumped it on him all at once.

“I'm sorry,” you blurted, shaking your head. “That was–”

“Stop,” he ordered.

Mouth still hanging open, you stared back at him dumbfounded. He was sitting there on the couch with tears brimming in his eyes, his lips quivering as if he was struggling not to start crying himself. You felt horrible for having unloaded on him like that, for making him feel like he currently felt.

“I’m sor–”

“ Stop ,” he repeated.

Matt's hands released your knees, sliding up the outside of your thighs so carefully before they made their way towards your back. Before you'd known what was even happening, he was pulling you straight into himself on the couch, drawing you right into his chest. You didn’t fight him, not even as his strong arms encircled your waist and held you tight. Your own arms remained at your side, your cheek pressed right up against Matt’s firm shoulder as you sat there uncertain how to react. 

“I didn’t know,” Matt whispered. 

You frowned, shaking your head against his shoulder. “It wasn’t on you to know, Matt,” you replied. “I didn’t want anyone to know. That was the point.”

“Yes, but I’d heard you crying for weeks now–”

“Probably shouldn’t be eavesdropping then,” you muttered.

“–and I didn’t piece anything together,” he continued. “I figured maybe you were going through a breakup or something. From one of those dating app things you use. I didn’t know it was something much more serious.”

“I’m fine ,” you assured him. 

“No, you’re not,” he countered, his arms holding you even tighter to the front of himself as if that alone could keep you from falling apart. “You’re not, not if you feel like that. And maybe–maybe you should talk to someone,” he suggested carefully. “Because you know it's okay if you need to. There's nothing wrong with seeking help.”

“What do you mean?” you asked. “Like a therapist?”

“If that's what would help, yes,” he answered. “But you know you're not alone, right? I'm always here. Always . So are Karen and Fog. You can talk to us, too.”

Turning your head, you attempted to hide your face against his shoulder. With your nose pressed against his spandex shirt, you could easily smell his sweat from his evening running around the city. The scent of it surrounding you felt both oddly comforting and strangely intimate. 

“I don't want to put this on any of you,” you mumbled into his shirt. 

“You know,” Matt began slowly, resting his chin lightly atop your head, “it's okay to let other people in. You don't have to keep everyone at a distance like you usually do. Some of us want to get closer to you.”

“Not to this part of me,” you whispered. “Not to this…dark part of me.”

“I let you into mine,” Matt quietly pointed out. “You might have accidentally discovered I was the Man in Black, but the rest of it? The heightened senses? The night I started going out like this? My childhood?” He shifted above you, turning his face so he could bury it against the top of your head. “I showed you the darker parts of me. I let you in.”

You knew he was right the moment he'd said it. Matt had told you so much about himself after you'd accidentally uncovered his big secret. He'd revealed so much about his dad's passing and the pain of his mentor, Stick, disappearing on him. He'd told you about his struggles hearing the people of Hell’s Kitchen in need of help and how he just couldn't ignore it any longer. He'd even told you about his ex, Elektra, and how she'd abandoned him like so many others in his life. But you'd never understood why he had.

“Yeah,” you agreed softly. “You did. Though I've never understood why you let me in like you did. Because you definitely don't let others in, either, Matt. Foggy doesn't even know most of what you've told me.”

Above you Matt shifted, turning to rest his cheek against the top of your head. You sat in his embrace with your arms awkwardly at your side, that strange feeling he'd stirred awake in you just minutes ago steadily demanding to be felt.

“I thought it would have been obvious,” Matt began. “Because I'm always stopping by to see you here when I'm out. Always calling and inviting you out to Josie’s because I want you there. Letting you see all of me when I don't show anyone else.”

Your face scrunched up at his words, uncertain if he was getting at what you thought he might be getting at. Bottom lip rolling between your teeth, you began to nervously gnaw at it as you felt one of his hands begin to absently rub a soothing circle on your back.

“I care about you,” he confessed. “As more than a friend. I have for a long time.”

You nearly stopped breathing at his surprising admission, your body going still in his arms. This was not how you saw the evening going when he appeared on your fire escape. 

“I always just figured the whole Man in Black thing was too much for you,” he continued. “So I never said anything. But I always thought you knew that's how I felt.”

“I–I didn't,” you whispered, still stunned.

Matt cleared his throat, his hand stopping its absent movement on your back. You missed the comfort of it immediately. 

“I'm sorry, this isn't the time or place for this conversation,” Matt apologized. “I just…always thought you knew.”

Your own arms hesitantly found their way around Matt’s waist, finally hugging him in return. Somehow you felt his hold on you tighten further in response, a small smile slipping onto your face.

“You're right, it's not the time,” you agreed. “But for the record, I've always cared about you as more than a friend, too. I just figured you didn't feel the same or were just too busy to, you know, want something more.”

Another silence fell between the pair of you as you sat there curled around each other on your couch. Your eyes closed when his hands once more began their comforting movements along your back, your own hands fisting around the material of his shirt. For the first time in a long time you didn't feel so alone. For once you felt seen. 

“You know something,” you whispered, breaking the stillness of your apartment.  

“What?” Matt whispered against your hair.

“I get it,” you told him. Shifting in his arms, you unburied your face from its place against him, once more resting your cheek against his shoulder instead as you spoke. “I get why you do it. Why you go out at night like this,” you told him. “Because of the pain raging inside of you–the same thing I feel sometimes. And because of how it feels like the world is sometimes falling apart around us. Because it's hard to just sit back and feel like there's nothing you can do, nothing you can change.” 

You paused, your own arms holding onto him a little tighter. Matt had gone still though, as if he was intensely focused on everything you were saying.

“If I could go out and save a life, or stop a mugging, or save a child from their parents’ abuse, or rescue a young woman from an assault, I would.” A tear slipped out of your eye as you paused to exhale a shuddering breath. “And if I could hear so many others in pain, I would be going out and doing something about it, too. So I get it, Matt. Why you do what you do. And I honestly don't think that's dark at all despite how you often talk about it.”

“No?” he whispered.

“No,” you replied. “I think it's admirable. I've always thought that.”

At first Matt didn't respond, and as the silence grew around the pair of you, you wondered if you'd finally said too much tonight. Gone too far. But then you felt something gently fall into your hair, and then another and another. It took a moment before you realized they were droplets of tears.  

Crying. Matt was crying. 

“I'm sorry,” you apologized automatically, your arms attempting to unwrap from around him as you tried to pull away. “I'm so sor–”

“I said stop,” he croaked out, his arms still encircled around you, keeping you in place against his chest. “Stop apologizing.”

“I–I don't–” you stammered in confusion. “I didn't mean to upset you, Matt.”

“I'm not upset,” he explained, removing his face from where it had been pressed to the top of your head. “It's just hearing that from you,” he began slowly, “it…means more than you know. Because I–I have always thought there was something wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Matt,” you immediately assured him.

“Well there's nothing wrong with you, either,” he told you. 

Tears brimmed in your eyes instantly. The dam that had felt like it was holding back all of your feelings lately–the dam that had been keeping you numb–suddenly felt as if it had finally broken as the first few tears slipped down your cheeks.

“Like I said, I know this isn't exactly the time for this conversation, but I just wanted you to know that you matter to someone,” Matt confessed. “Because you matter to me.”

Hands gripping firmly onto Matt as if he was grounding you as all your emotions came surging forth, your tears continuing to fall, you whispered back, “You matter to me, too.”

You felt Matt's mouth lightly press a kiss to the top of your head. As his lips lingered, an unexplainable weightlessness filled you. 

“And while I don't have an answer for how you're feeling,” he said softly, “I want you to know that I'm here. Whenever you need me. However you need me. Okay? Because you're not alone. You're never alone.”

Eyes slowly closing as you began to finally relax in his embrace, you felt the tears spill in steady streams down your cheeks. Maybe not everything was quite as bleak as your mind had led you to believe lately. Maybe there was still some good in the world to be grateful for. And maybe you did need to finally reach out and get some help. 

But for now, you just liked the idea of not crying alone in your bed again. 

“Is it too much to ask you to stay with me for a bit?” you asked hopefully. “I wouldn't mind having some company tonight.”

Matt placed another soft kiss into your hair.  “I'll stay as long as you want, sweetheart,” he promised.

[samodivaa]

Words don’t trigger him, emotions do

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Anger, resentment and especially, jealousy—those emotions were all he knew while you both spent decades at Hydra.

Warnings- angst, jealously, mental struggles, smut, possessive sex, love bites

Words- 3400

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And his love has its own dark morality when rivalry enters in, when another man dares to flirt with you and Bucky shall show well what he shows best.

“Hello, snowflake" he says "Hope I'm...interrupting”

There is an intonation so bitter and so imperative that the man who you are talking with shallows hard. The words which are set in the air—in themselves they are simple and sweet. But his jealousy, protectiveness are a living thing. Shifting, changing, growing.

"Do you know the man?" he asks politely, blue eyes burning with violence.

There is a natural comorbidity between possessiveness and jealousy, between the desire to fuck and the desire to kill.

„Yeah, I do,“ you reply and Bucky feels alone in the moment your eyes break contact—and in a fever, among the walls of the bar, he looks around too, a thickening twilight peeps out in his mind.

"Who is he?" he asks in a pleasant but cold voice, now clearly less friendly than before.

„It doesn’t matter“ you smile softly, that sentence is a uttered curse to Bucky’s ears. Immediately, his guard is up.

Bucky is silent for a moment, suffocated by the situation, ringing in his ears, and the heart—it will bust.

The simplicity of your answer spreads as frost, closing off the light of his eyes. His mind starts racing once again, a nameless emotion has nested in Bucky – who is that guy?

Bucky sits on your left side before he leans on the counter next to you, with his metal hand and puts his right one on his tight, closer to his gun strapped there.

You know him, you know that behavior— this yearning to protect, tearing at his insides like hunger and thirst. It is not love. Love is warm and soft, like a bed of leaves. But this is dark, like the shade under a poisonous shrub, and it is hungry. So hungry.

You know its' name—Winter.

You're stuck with him. Not for a few decades, not for centuries. You're tied to him forever. That's why you are good at putting out his flame before it grows—the frame he still carries from the past.

Jealousy isn't a pleasant quality, apart from its inconvenience there's even something touching about it—his starless nights eyes—his face, as if it has been a dial cut in impassive stone, the dwindling of life.

You are equipped to handle what he has, both past and present—package deal of both. In other words, you have been assigned a load you can handle.

“Bucky-”

“Let's go home, it’s getting late” he interrupts, in a soft, vicious voice.

“Give me ten minutes”

He feels like a thread has come between you when he hears your answer, tugging, tugging at his heart—so hard, it hurts him.

You glare at each other. He closes his eyes, because there is a petulant woundedness with which he stares back at you.

Neither of you say a word until Bucky moves, leaning back against the counter, and folding his arms over his chest. It takes all his concentration, to keep from ripping out this man’s throat. But Bucky shoves the familiar fury down, to the place where he stifles Winter's power.

“Okay”

He says as he looks over to the man, and wants him to say something mean so he would have an excuse to shoot him. Bucky is something dark and beautiful, in conflict with what he shows to the world and what he truly feels inside, it is hard to control it.

A worry deep in you stir, but you ignore it for now, pushing it down as best you can with the distraction of music and whiskey.

You fully turn to the man and all Bucky wants is your full attention. He wants your gaze to stay fixed on him, only him. He wants to stare into those beautiful eyes for as long as he lives.

Every avalanche begins with the movement of a single snowflake, and you are this Snowflake tonight.

When the ten minute mark hits you hear a quiet screeching sound—he has carved a small heart on the counter with his index metal finger—you can’t believe how jealousy has him gagging, his blue eyes are clouded before he lowers his gaze to the floor.

Snow is super soft, bottomless and amazingly light, yet supportive—until you take a wrong turn and feel every crystal reacting within your soul, suffocating you. Bucky has lost himself in the emotional storm: it takes so little this time, to put fuel in his cynical heart.

“Bucky…” you whisper and your eyes meet, his actual humanity can’t seem to triumph over the rage and jealousy this time, something you hardly imagine in your wildest dreams.

And this is the secret you both share—the kind you don't dare to let out—Words don't trigger him, but emotions do. You can’t leave them unnoticed, unattended and unsolved.

“Let's head home”

Your language has been lost for so long at Hydra. But not the gestures. It is almost comforting, this mutual acceptance of understanding each other without the need for words.

He maintains his silence, but he slowly gets up—he doesn’t look back, he knows you are following him closely. Of course you do, but you think about what has just happened

While you were looking into his eyes, there were fragments of his inner struggle that were deeply repressed—he always tries to repress the past. It’s hard to distinguish if they were buried inside because dealing with them was such dirty work, or if he was ashamed to voice them.

The truth is that he would rather dig his own heart out, with a knife, than admit it. A while ago he let you know that it's hard to control certain emotions—but he didn’t want to throw his intimacy in front of you, especially when he cares.

But nothing stays secret forever

You are trying to heal too, but, finally, there are things which he is afraid to divulge even to himself—he needs you, he needs your reassurance, he feels like someone will snatch you from his hands, damn his split personalities and untrustworthy habits from the past, but he can’t help it, it scares him.

You are both unearthed by deception, torture, brainwashing, whose essence was shrouded by Hydra—your own father naming the Winter Soldier program after his own daughter, you, stringing you with Bucky together—the yearning theme of your life.

After you escaped Hydra, you went your separate ways until he came back to you, searching for someone who understands him.

That was a year ago.

The more he thinks about it, the more he wants you, the more my desire rises and swells—

“Bucky” He shakes his head in exasperation, not stopping as he climbs the stairs to your shared apartment, aiming for the door, but he can’t stay with you, not when he is not fully himself “Bucky, stop, talk to me”

You have known him for so long, you can see the pride through his words, the truth through his silence, and the anger through his smile.

Always.

“Soldat“  he turns to you, perusing your body as he comes to stand in front of you, his abysses as deep as those of love, finally meet yours.

That realization takes about a nanosecond to register in Bucky’s brain before the real important information comes to the forefront—you’ve noticed.

He lowers his head toward you, so you could feel his breath warm against your skin, your mouths only inches apart

“Why did you call me that?”

He has no answer nor idea, just a never-ending list of questions, he is searching for a loophole that increasingly feels like a noose—he denies it, he tries to—you are not entitled to exposing him like that.

How hollow is it for him to have no secrets left—Bucky's love gives, and Soldat's lust takes.

His gaze, improper, is the most sensual thing he can have done at this moment, and it jolts your heart into a strange rhythm as you speak

“Tell me, how can I help?” You put your hands on his chest, your eyes still locked and an unwelcome sensation pierces you.

“You already know” he says thoughtfully as his cool gaze devours you “snezinka” (snowflake) and his lusty grin when he says that, it's sinful—and pleasurable.

“There is nothing to worry about. Do whatever you want to make yourself feel better” All you want to do is make him feel better, to drown his worries in your embrace.

Both shame and worry drown themselves in the dark eyes that stare back at him.

You.

Only you.

Bucky dreads this power you have over him.

Everything you say is exceedingly obvious, and undoubtedly true, but he feels that something more obscure, more frightening lurks in the back of your mind.

You don’t halt the hands he lays on your waist when he pushes you, backing you into the door.

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1968–1969, Zhao Jianmin Spy Case

„That is going to be mass murder, send them together.“

This mission is a long, never-ending massacre, it never ends.

He is lost in your eyes, it’s eating him alive.

Corpses fill the floor, the sight of gore is peaceful in your corrupted existence. He becomes obsessed in this moment of solitude with you, he has the need to touch you and you respond with a kiss, blood all over your face.

Your wretched fate is shared, your need for touch also.

Winter’s lust betrays him as he pushes you against the wall, feasting on your lips and neck, his hands running up and down your back.

“Relax, Winter” you giggle as you gently press your fingers into his shoulders, forcing him to break the kiss as he looms over you- waiting with a predatory grin.

„I need you, Samodiva“ he slurs, eyebrows furrowed as he glances up at you. His trembling fingers touch the strings in vain, wanting to find the right notes from the fading memory, Soldat wants his soul to vibrate again; with lust, with love.

He knows you feel his arousal, your closeness causing him to grow hard, inhaling sharply, enjoying the sensations you are eliciting in him.

“I need you, too” you finally answer without faltering.

This is all Soldat needs to hear - his tongue flicking lightly over your neck once again, tracing the skin slowly, eliciting a moan from your lips, bodies acting on instinct.

A soft squeak escapes your puffy lips, the tension building up in your body too fast, too soon. Winter puts his hands around your waist, your pants already unbuckled, surrendered to him.

He wastes no time, there's no time left… his hands suddenly drop to his own pants, popping the button open and then pulling down the zipper.

The feeling of your insides drains all of his self power to not come on the first trust, he moves at an excruciating slowly pace, fucking you into the bloodstained walls, there is a glimpse of human nature when you fill the room with moans.

„I am yours,“ he whispers, his words sending a series of chills through her.

This is about him, not you, this is what he needs.

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“1968, do you remember?“ he groans as he brushes his mouth against your cheek. The plea in his tone floods your veins with a whole different form of power “Just say no, snezinka-”

“This is exactly what I want“ you counter. As you arch your back, pressing the tips of your breasts against his chest, closing your eyes at the whisper of a kiss, at the hunger that ravages inside you.

He leans down more, his mouth only inches from yours. “Fuck,” the barely leashes growl of his voice rumbles up through his chest, and every nerve ending in your body flares to life.

Bucky loves seeing you pinned to the door—his control balancing precariously on the point of a knife. He tightens his hands holding you even closer, until your chest is pressed against his own, you can feel his hard cock pressing between your bodies.

All he needs is one push.

And you are about to shamelessly shove.

“Come on, I can take it” you tilt your head up to his and draw his bottom lip between yours, sucking before gently nipping him with your teeth. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay” He speaks against your throat and finishes one languorous stroke up the column of your neck.

It breaches something within him, and he gives in.

Finally, mouths collides, and the kiss is hot and hard—it invades his body, abolishing any constraints and bringing to life the desire for you. It grounds him firmly in the moment and drags his body in it, too—Bucky wants to be the only thing touching you, the only thing that touches you ever again. He is kissing the shell of your ear, nipping at it gently and then soothing the nips with soft kisses.

Rage. Lust. Jealousy. Past. Preset. Every day is a reminder of how nothing stays the same, every day an exercise in variability, resilience, understating and trust.

You love the seasons, but, you must admit—at the risk of offending the others—Winter is your very favorite one. What a beautiful madness, to explore the darkness in his old self and find joy in the unearthing of such a wicked past.

He craves you, he kisses you again.

When your mouth touches his, it is like a blade glancing off metal—the darkness inside him briefly lights up with violence and rage before the emptiness comes flooding in like a black lake—you see it in his eyes.

“Let’s get inside '' he hears your whisper and he reaches up to stroke your cheek with the backs of his fingers. He might be lust-intoxicated, but he always cares.

Tonight, you have successfully deflected his attention from the gloomy thoughts and the contemplation of his past—his lust rushes, but his love makes him wait.

His love lasted for decades—will last for a lifetime.

Awash with trepidation, you two manage to get into the apartment, but the moment you lock the door—your back is against the wall again.

All those desires Bucky has felt in passing have culminated, growing deeper, hungrier, darker—he can do whatever he wants with you.

That through alone causes trouble below his belt.

He pulls his shirt over his head, the sight of his sculpted muscles, crisscrossed with countless scars. They have the strange power to remind you both that the past is real.

Bucky’s hands languidly roam the curves and valleys of your body as his kisses became sensual, slow and deep. There is such a luster in his eyes that you have to look away, but when you look back at him, his gaze hasn’t moved, still focused on your face.

Then he shifts his mouth to your neck for a hard love-bite that makes you cry out— the need to possess you, to claim you, he never did that before.

But even though you feel his erection stir as you press your hips against his, he doesn't attempt to resume the lovemaking in full, he catches you around your slender waist again and brings you close to whisper teasingly in your ear

“Ты - моя, слышишь?”

You begin to feel a familiar wetness form between your legs.

“Bucky,” you call out, impatient with desire.

But that exact position triggers so much delight, of the heated memory—he has all the time in the world, not as the last time.

He kisses you like he has forgotten how your mouth tastes—with a curious childish delight, kisses like wants to take you dancing.

As you pull apart, you remove your own shirt and his teeth scraping down the skin of your neck, his hands sliding around back to remove your bra, tossing it aside.

His right hand makes its way up, passing over a mark left by a bullet—your cheeks heat, and your breath hitches, but you can’t look away, you follow his hand with your eyes.

“I was not there when you got shot” he says as his fingertip skims the top of your breasts “When was that?” he uses the vibranium arm to lift one of the long locks of your hair to his lips and inhales the scent.

“It doesn’t matter”

And maybe you are right, but it stands as a reminder yet again of how you too escaped death's touch before. It was almost...normal for you back then.

Bucky takes a breast into his mouth to suck at it vigorously as you shiver in his grasp, the metal hand sides down to your waist to keep you against the wall.

You let out a small moan as you feel his hardness tighten and press even more insistently against you.

You worm your hands between your bodies, opening his jeans, freeing his length from the confines of his boxer-briefs, then reaching in to caress it and he burying his face in your neck to stifle his groan.

Bucky shudders when when you take him in your hand, stroking him painfully slowly. He allows it for several moments before hiking up the skirt of your dress to quickly tear your damp underwear.

He rubs a hand down your leg, fingers curling behind your knee and pulls it to his hip.

You instinctively jump, he catches you, abandoning his attempts of fingering you in favor of grabbing your hips, and you moan as you wrap your legs around his waist.

He loves you.

He loves you because nature wills it as it did for decades.

Because you are already long united by the past.

The bare flesh on every part of you always belonged to him, the scent emitting from your skin is his—he loves you, but he doesn't dare tell you that.

You have become Bucky’s favorite hiding place over the past year, the place he put every secret, every solitude, every nervous prayer, you keep him safe.

You have possessed him—and you never knew it.

He has been dependent on exactly how close he can have you next to him, how long he can get to stay at your apartment—making various excuses every time until you suggested to him to move in with you two months ago.

“Bucky,”

you tighten your legs around his waist, urging him to continue, running your hands over his shoulders.

Your voice pulls him out of what was ravaging in his mind, all those thoughts, but then he kisses as he roughly inserted his cock with no warning, you let out a surprised gasp as his forehead falls to your shoulder, bracing his hands on your hips and pressing you against the wall more firmly when he bottoms out, moaning shamelessly at the feeling of your body against him.

You are made for him, made for fucking.

“I love biting you, I need it” his voice is brittle, not saying anything else.

You stare like he is something you can’t comprehend, something unexpected – willingly admitting.

Your fingers thread gently through his hair and you can’t help, but hang your jaw in bewilderment at the sight before—he is falling apart from the need to claim you, to reach the white-hot ecstasy. 

You have never seen him like that.

He bites his way along your jaw to the base of your throat. His mouth is hard and punishing, lathering your skin with marks—ferocity burns in his gaze promising something primal—thrusting into you wildly, trying to elongate your pleasure for as long as possible, but suddenly he is choking on moans as waves of climatic bliss are sent throughout his body.

This is about him, not you, this is what he needs.

This night you learn about his jealousy, it has you starving to learn more about this side of him. A new hunger that you know you will satisfy only with time.

His steel blue eyes hide a nearly irresistible urge to claim you—it’s hard for Bucky to control it when the incurable desolation of Winter exaggerates in displaying old emotions.

[joshsindigostreak]

'Tis the Damn Season

“I’m staying at my parent’s house, and the road not taken looks real good now…”

A Holiday One Shot 🎄

Josh Kiszka x F!Reader

Authors Note: Happy Holidays y’all!! Here’s a cozy Josh piece that is very self indulgent but so sweet!! Happy reading and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts! 🍷🎄

Word Count: 8.5K

Warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, 18+, unprotected sex, oral sex both m/f receiving, swearing, internal angst.

Despite the ambient noise of the dive bar you were perched in, for the first time in three days you finally felt at peace. You loved your parents, but visiting them these days could be overwhelming, especially with the revolving door of family members showing up unannounced. There was only so much small talk one could take. You had lost count of how many times you described your job, your passion, as an acquisitions editor at a small publishing house, to various family members. Eventually you had to simplify it with a curt, “I get to be the person to say ‘yay,’ or ‘nay’ on their book submissions.” 

You loved your job. As much as it sucked to be the bad guy sometimes, the benefits of being able to work remotely and at your own pace made up for it. Getting paid to read was the best thing to happen to you in your twenties so far, and even though the pay wasn’t spectacular, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. There were times you were worried that making your passion your job would burn you out of reading in your own time, but so far you still found the time to bury your nose in a new tome of choice. 

When you had packed for your trip back home, a small stack of books made it into your luggage, along with your trusty Kindle that was loaded with various quick reads that let you turn your brain off and enjoy the ride. It took everything within you to not check your work emails on your laptop, but you were on the precious few PTO days your employer had allotted everyone in your department, and you were determined to use them properly. 

The bar you had sought refuge in was a local one a few blocks from your house. It was one your dad would always go to hang out with his buddies when you were younger and he was still working that 9-5 throughout the week. 

As you sat on the wobbly bar stool, your ankles crossed and your toes rested on the metal bar attached to the wood paneling of the bar itself. A solitary glass of dark red wine sat on the bar top, inches from the book you were devouring. It wasn’t anything complicated, and many would call it a dime-a-dozen romantic fantasy, filled with magic and tall dark love interests with horrific social skills. But sometimes, the familiar nature of the plot and characters was comforting. The plot might not have been overly unique, but the curiosity of how the author was going to weave together these tropes was half the fun. How was this author going to handle the “oh…” moment between two enemies? What mundane task will trigger the main character into a flashback of a lost love that got away? 

This personal game of yours was a slippery slope, as you had to practically pavlov yourself into not going into work mode while reading, but you kept yourself in check for the most part. At least that's what you would tell yourself. 

You flipped another page in the book, eager to see how the current scene was unfolding. The imagery was building in your mind so well that you hadn’t even noticed a familiar, sweet and dimpled face, had slipped into the bar with a few friends. 

Josh had shed his fluffy, faux fur lined coat, one that was way too ostentatious for the small town atmosphere, but he wrote it off on how practical it was for keeping the cold winter air from chilling his bones. He had decided against the beanie that he typically wore with it, in favor of letting his hair show itself off as it normally did. Tonight was not the night for hat-hair, though the singer was unsure where this conclusion had come from earlier in the evening. The nagging feeling of, you need to look nice, had been lingering in his brain for the past few hours. 

In his typical fashion, he hadn’t shut his mouth the entire time he had been inside the establishment. Rattling off story after story from being on the road with his brothers and their band, cracking up at his own jokes, letting the excitement of being home and seeing the same faces he grew up with. 

The pool table in the far corner had been where his group had settled, drinks settled on the edge with pool sticks in their hands. Josh was bent over the table settling in to make his shot when a figure hunched slightly on a bar stool, turning a page in the book sitting on the bar top.

 Your profile was slightly obscured from where he was an how you were sitting on the stool, and it wasn’t until the bartender came over to refill your wine glass and your name tumbled from their mouth in conversation that it clicked for the rock star who had probably made the worst pool shot in his life at the sound of it. 

You. It was you. 

His cheeks heated in the embarrassment of his shitty shot and the memories that materialized in his mind’s eye. Sitting next to you in algebra, making eye contact and shrugging when neither of you knew whatever the fuck your teacher was talking about. Or walking past you in the hallway as you slammed your locker shut trying to book it to your next class. He’d ignored the sinking feeling he had every time it happened that had him wishing his locker was in the same hall as yours, not annoying around the corner. But other times of bumping elbows with you in the lunch line, sharing grimaces at the dry square pizza in front of you. A few of the dumb sarcastic quips he’d made in class in a hushed whisper  (well, as much of a whisper as Josh Kiszka could produce), just to make you bite your lip and try not to giggle too loud, echoed in his mind. 

He hadn’t seen you since the last week of senior year, specifically at a graduation party one of your mutual friends had thrown together last minute. His final memory of your face was how it crumpled slightly as a very tipsy Morgan Pearson had led him up the stairs. It was an image that had haunted him for a long time, because by the time he had made it back downstairs you had already left the party, and he knew you were off on your summer road trip with your parents in the morning. From there he had observed on Facebook you settling into your freshman dorm in a school that was states away, seemingly doing well. Eventually his own band took over all of his time and his internet scrolling was behind him as he saw the world with his brothers. 

Fuck. 

He needed to talk to you. 

Your eyes flitted over to the next page as you took in the new chapter heading, not wanting to be distracted from the cliffhanger the previous chapter had ended on. 

The heroine had just discovered some deep family secrets that rattled her entire being, changing the entire trajectory of her journey so-

“Whatcha readin’?” 

The fantasy world in your mind dissolved at the sound of that voice. A voice, as the cliche says, you hadn’t heard in years. If it had been anyone else, you would have bitten their head off for rudely interrupting your reading, But slowly your eyes fluttered upwards at the source, using every mitochondria in your body to not visibly react at how…different he looked. Not different in an unrecognizable way, but in a way that showed you that he had grown into his own body. That the boyish awkwardness had evolved into a strong jaw and broad shoulders. He…he had facial hair now, and briefly a memory flashed in your mind of him in junior year lamenting about how patchy his upper lip was no matter what he did. 

The sides of his head were shorn down to the skin, and the dim lighting of the bar had you almost convinced he had a mohawk until you looked closer and saw it was closer to a mullet instead. It was a look you would have never considered for him, but it fit perfectly, and he looked beautiful with it. 

And there it was, the knot that would form in your throat whenever you were in his presence. You hadn’t felt that particular sensation since the night of that god awful graduation party. The very party where you had last seen the man before you. 

Your mouth parted dumbly as he parked himself on the stool next to yours. 

“...Josh?” was all you could say. 

He breathed out your name, in a low tone that made your stomach flip. As he took a sip of whatever mixed drink he had in one hand, his other reached over for your book to get a good look of the cover. Emotional and muscle memory kicked in and you allowed him in your personal space, practically letting him take the book out of your hands. In the past, the two of you were always spatially close. Eating off each other's plates, unconsciously scooting your chairs closer together, or grabbing the same seats on the bus for field trips. You weren’t attached to the hip, but somehow whenever you would be in the same room you’d always end up next to each other. 

Josh mouthed the words of the title silently to himself, eyebrows raising slightly at your book of choice. 

“Must be pretty good, you didn’t even notice me walking over,” he said before taking another sip of his drink. 

A nervous laugh rattled through you, “y-yeah it’s pretty immersive.” 

Your eyes were trained on his face, mapping out all of the same but new features, and you wondered if he was doing the same to you as his warm gaze hadn’t left you. 

Josh was most definitely taking you in, as well. You looked so proper sitting on that stool in an oversized black sweater that fell past your hips and hid most of the skirt you had been wearing under it. He tried his best not to make it obvious he was staring at your legs and the tights that were wrapped around them that led down to your boots. But the singer flicked his eyes back to your face, and noted all the subtle changes since the last time he had seen you. You looked so…grown up now, that he felt like he had missed so much in the last few years. It was a feeling he had whenever he came back home, but with you…with you it bothered him, and that feeling caught him off guard. 

Because he was Josh, and he could never let silence linger too long, “so what made you bring a book to a bar of all places?” 

And in a matter of seconds, you began relaying to him how the trip back home had been the last few days, and how much you needed a break from it all. 

“...you remember that uncle that's technically my dads cousin but I call him uncle cause he’s a lot older than my dad?”

Josh nodded along. 

“He’s so fucking loud, dude. And he never shuts up and because of this my grandmother turns up the TV and no one tells him to quiet down so between the TV blasting and him rambling about the dumbest things…ugh and my mother wouldn’t stop hovering over me! I needed to get out of there.” 

He smiled as you hashed out your family drama, flashing his teeth as he did so. There were follow up questions on his end, asking about your parents and grandparents and how they had been. Josh had been one of your few friends who went out of his way to be charming to your parents. He had earned the, “oh Josh is welcome any time he wants…” invitation by fifth grade alone. 

You took a sip of your wine, “oh my god I’ve been talking so much about me, what about you? How’s the band going?” 

It was his turn to blush slightly as he began telling you about the most recent tour they had been on, and how this was a mini break between tour legs and that at the beginning of the year they were off to a new continent. 

He pointed over his shoulder at his friends who were still milling around the pool table, “...in fact Danny is right over there.” 

You turned and gave the drummer a once-over. The last time you had seen Danny Wagner he was this gangly awkward teenager who nervously laughed at everything. But there he was, in a red sweater with perfect spiral curls spilling over his shoulders. The sweater itself was very form fitting on him and it was easy to see how muscled out his shoulders and arms had become over the years. 

“Holy shit, that’s Danny Wagner?” You gave him a slight wave when he made eye contact with you, and he politely waved back with a shy smile. 

Josh, rather indignantly, noticed the way you were looking at Danny and a sharp stabbing feeling of jealousy shot through him. Heat reached the surface of his cheeks and he momentarily contemplated reaching over to gently turn your chin back to him. 

But before Josh could even shove that thought away, you turned to fully face him, and gave a nod to the bartender to get you another glass of wine. Something deep down felt more settled when your attention was fully back on him.

However, you could feel those big brown eyes staring at you as you glanced at Danny. It was such a fixed stare that you were all too familiar with. In the rare moments that Josh was quiet, he would be staring into space, deep in thought. More often than not you chalked it up to him zoning out, but having those unblinking eyes on you had your heart hammering in your chest. 

It wasn’t the first time he had looked at you like that. There were several small,  fleeting moments throughout your adolescence where you’d catch his eyes on you. On the bus coming home from a field trip, walking towards you at your locker, in US History, and even at various house parties you found yourselves at. Your reaction was always the same: the skin of your neck would heat up and prickle up to your cheeks as they flushed. He never called you on it, and for a long time you had convinced yourself that he just hadn’t noticed. Because he never said anything, the idea of it actually meaning something was too great to get your hopes up for. 

There it was, Josh thought. 

That flush of color that darkened your skin whenever he looked at you for too long. It had taken him an embarrassing amount of time to figure out that he was the cause of it, but when he did he would sometimes make you blush on purpose. Maybe it was an ego thing, but he also couldn’t believe you reacted that way to him. He hated the term of someone being out of someone’s league; but even after being in the spotlight for his career and knowing what it felt like when a room full of people swooned at him he still didn’t feel he was in the same universe as yours. 

You were always so poised and collected, even during your awkward stage. Whereas he was always pinging off the walls with his endless supply of energy and charm. 

Why would you even consider a little shit like him?  

The blissful silence was interrupted however, when you saw the door to the bar swing open and a new group of people rushed in to escape the cold. Josh’s back was to the door, but he watched your eyes travel to the side to look behind him, and he didn’t hesitate to whip his head around to see who you were looking at. 

Only one of them rang a bell, a dirty blonde in a bright blue winter coat. Was she in his home room? No…but her locker had been on the same hallway as his. 

“Is that…?”

“Miranda Sheridan,” you murmured  a little too quickly as you turned back to your wine and fiddled with the corner of your book. In all honesty, you didn’t have an issue with Miranda. The two of you had gotten along just fine in school. Well enough that you secured invites to her house from time to time. Well, Josh, had secured invites for you. 

“Oh yeah her parents had that huge property!” He excitedly remembered while throwing a gentle wave in her direction.

You hated the way your stomach twisted when she waved back.  

Her parents owned a couple of acres out in the county, which wasn’t very elaborate, but it was perfect for a lot of the parties teenagers would get themselves into. Josh particularly remembered her dad had an old toolshed in the back that their friends tried to hot box more than once. 

Naturally, her place had been the place to host the main graduation party. You tried to think of anything else, but your mind flooded with the memories of walking around her house with a cliched solo cup, trying to find Josh, your anchor in social situations, and coming up empty and settling on the couch. When you finally laid eyes on him, he was being led by the hand towards the stairs by another girl. No it hadn’t been Miranda, but someone else in your grade that had a very obvious crush on Josh and never tried hiding it. 

Josh looked over his shoulder, his tongue between his teeth as he laughed at something someone said as he walked by. His smile faded as soon as he saw you, sitting all by yourself on the couch. His feet were moving for him, but not towards you. He was already ascending the stairs, eyes locked on yours before the girl attached to his arm tugged at his wrist to get his attention and he followed her upstairs and out of sight. 

That had been the last time you had seen Josh before tonight. 

And by emotional muscle memory, your stomach plummeted just as it had years ago. 

Before you could stop it, you bit out, “we went to her graduation party, remember?” 

The singer’s head snapped back to face you.

That party. 

His voice was quiet, “you…you left early, didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t feeling well.” 

He could tell it was a lie. An excuse. 

“I just meant…I tried finding you after-”

“After what?” Once again your mouth betrayed you. 

The trunk of the elephant in the room was practically wrapping around Josh’s neck, and his chest felt tight. 

Even softer, he said “after I came downstairs…”

In response, all you did was hum into your glass as you took another sip, an eyebrow arching like a freshly-awoken cat. 

“I had to get home anyway. I had to be on a plane early the next morning.” 

That, he remembered. Your parents had surprised you with a trip across the country as your graduation present. 

But Josh struggled to find the words of what he wanted to say. He hadn’t even been upstairs for twenty minutes before he finally flew down the stairs to find you, only to see the couch filled with different people and one of your other friends informing him that you had caught a ride back home. 

It hadn’t been a complete cut off, the two of you still texted as normal for a few weeks and liked each other's facebook statuses. But the texts became less frequent, and eventually dwindled down to leaving each other on delivered for days at a time. With the band finally starting to take off, and you drowning in your college classes, communication became near impossible. 

“Right…”

“Plus I didn’t want to interrupt your night. You were having too much fun up there.”

This time it was Josh’s turn to twist the side of his mouth and quirk an eyebrow, “what exactly do you think I did that night?”

You scoffed slightly and tilted your head, “Josh.” 

“No, I want you to say it.” 

You stared at him. It felt dumb to get to this point but you weren’t embarrassed. But the same jealousy and adrenaline from that night flooded your system, and after rolling your lip between your teeth you replied, 

“You and…whats her name…hooked u-”

“We didn’t hook up,” he said firmly, not blinking. 

“Made out-”

“We didn’t make out, either.” 

“Well what were you doing up there?” You huffed. 

“Don’t get me wrong, she clearly wanted to do both of those things. But before she could even try to kiss me she was doubled over puking all over the bathroom sink. I spent the next few minutes holding her hair while she let it all out. Apparently all of the vodka shots caught up with her.” 

You sat there, face unmoving as you took in what he said. For years you had it built up in your head that while you were fleeing that house your best friend was hooking up with someone else. 

Now the embarrassment started to creep in. 

The quiet tone returned, “I didn’t even like her like that anyway.” 

You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you now. 

You had to get out of here. This was too much. 

“I need to get going,” you began as you started to dig through your purse to pay for your drinks.

Josh was quicker than you and he turned to the bartender and slapped his card down on the bar top and asked to pay for his tab and yours. 

“Josh you don’t have to-” 

“But I am,” he said firmly, looking at you out of the corner of his eye as he scribbled on the receipts. 

That tone…that tone was new coming from him. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t annoyed, but he was being authoritative in a way you hadn’t heard before. 

Your insides were squirming for multiple reasons now. 

After the bills were settled he faced you again. He wasn’t letting you slip away again. He couldn’t.  

“Let me walk you home.”

You slid off the bar stool, “it's only a couple blocks, Josh, you don’t have to.” 

“I want to.” 

There was again, that tone. 

Not wanting to fight anymore, you nodded and the both of you made your way to the exit for your coats. You caught Josh tapping out a quick text to who you assumed was Danny to let him know where he was going. 

Silently the two of you slipped outside and into the winter air. The icy breeze stung your face after being used to the heat of the bar. You shivered slightly, but tried not to show it as you turned toward the direction of your house. 

Josh shoved his hands in his pockets for warmth, noticing the tiny flakes that had begun to fall from the sky. Had it even been forecasted to snow tonight? In any case, he purposely walked a little closer to you, letting your arms brush together. 

“I didn’t know it was supposed to snow tonight?” You wondered out loud. 

“Mother Nature is spiteful, that way, I guess.”

He hated how awkward it felt now. How the familiarity and ease of talking to you had evaporated as soon as Miranda Sheridan had chosen that specific bar to walk into. 

Soon enough, your house was in view, and your steps picked up the pace to get there faster. Josh followed you into the driveway and to the side of the garage where there were stairs that led up to your room above it. You moved into that space your senior year after your dad had renovated it, and he had only been in it a handful of times before graduation. 

Before you could even reach for the rail, Josh’s hand flew out of his pocket and took a hold of yours, gently lacing your fingers with his. 

The sudden contact had your heart in your throat. 

“You really thought I hooked up with her?” He felt your hand stiffen at his words, but he continued, “as soon as I saw you on that couch, I knew I was making a mistake.”

The flakes started coming down harder now, growing in size as they fell. 

“But you still went up there.”

His shoulders sank slightly, “I know…I shouldn’t have though. She wasn’t the girl I liked anyway.”

Denial is a strong thing, and you were letting it win, “she wasn’t?”

“No…I liked someone else but I second guessed myself all the time around her, thinking she’d never be into me anyway.” 

“How could you be sure of that?”

Josh’s fingers squeezed your hand, “I don’t know she just…she could do so much better than me and there were plenty of better options out there. Never thought I stood a chance.”

Your jaw started trembling and you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or from what he was implying.

 

“You really think there are better options than you?” You mirrored his earlier comment back to him. 

His eyes slowly met yours, deliberately giving you the look he knew would darken your cheeks. 

“So much better…”

“I don’t think so…,” your voice was almost as soft as the snow that was accumulating on the ground around you. 

Consequences be damned, you started to lean towards his face. 

His long eyelashes fluttered slightly as he realized what you were doing, and he leaned in and gently brushed his full lips against yours.

At the contact, your heart went from hammering in your chest to exploding. Years of daydreaming of this scenario had finally come to an end, culminating in a kiss that had your knees shaky.

He pulled away slightly to look at you again, only to surge forward and slide his free hand up your jaw to cradle your face. His lips pressed against yours even harder, a sudden wave of emotion taking the wheel in Josh’s mind. 

The both of you had years of pent up feelings and the dams were breaking. 

His other hand reluctantly dropped your hand in favor of wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer. 

The move took you by surprise, but you relaxed in his arms and tilted your head slightly and parted your lips. Immediately his tongue ran along your bottom lip before delving into your mouth. A low groan rose from his throat and his fans flexed slightly against your cheek.

A gust of wind whipped around you, causing you to shiver against his lips. 

“N-need to get you inside,” Josh chuckled, leaning his forehead on yours. 

You took a step backwards, resting your foot on the first step. 

“Come up with me?”

He answered with a quick kiss on your lips and mumbled, “lead the way…”

With a grin you turned and hurried up the steps, trying your best not to slip in the slush. Your hands shook as you unlocked your door, nearly stumbling inside to escape the cold. 

As soon as you had shut the door, Josh pushed you against it and started unzipping your coat and planting his lips on your neck. You made quick work of his too and both outer layers were haphazardly thrown onto a chair in the corner. His icy hands started fiddling with the bottom of your sweater, and you both paused at the silent question of going forward. 

He lifted his head out of the crook of your neck to look at you, “we don’t have to if you don’t…I mean we can just hang out if thats all-” 

You shushed him by taking his strong jaw in your hands and gave him a searing kiss. He kissed you back as another wave of emotion washed over him.

 

After letting his lips warm up against yours you pulled back and stared into his eyes, “Josh…this is all I want right now.” 

His eyelashes fluttered again, and this time his cheeks were darkening at the look you were giving him. 

“You sure?” 

“Please…”

Not needing to be told twice, his hands disappeared under your sweater and swept across the skin of your sides. You jolted slightly at how cold they were, but didn’t let it deter you from kissing him again, melting into his touch. His hands slowly rose to cup your breasts through your bra, and the light squeeze had you fighting to keep the low whine in your throat. 

Josh noticed you holding back and leaned in to whisper in your ear, “it’s just me…let me hear you…” 

The low tone of his voice had your body shivering under his hands and when his teeth grazed the skin of your neck you didn’t even try to hold back the breathy whine you made. Impatiently you helped him get your sweater off of your body, flinging it blindly to the side. You stared at the hungry look in his eyes as you reached behind your back to unhook your bra. Wanting to torture him even further, you purposely took your time letting it slide off your arms and onto the floor. His eyes never left your chest as he reached to take one of your breasts into his hand, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. Before you could fully register the feeling he was bending his head down to replace his fingers with his mouth, moaning into your soft skin. He gave the other side the same attention, before reaching behind you for the zipper to your skirt. 

As he knelt down to shimmy it down your hips, you practically clawed at his long sleeve shirt off of him. The lighting  in your room was dim, but you were able to see all of the muscles on his body that were definitely not there the last time you saw him. His arms were much more toned than you thought, and his shoulders and chest were defined in a way that had your lip rolling into your mouth between your teeth. 

Josh made quick work in getting your boots off, helping you step out of them and your skirt. His eyes flicked up at you and they were so much darker than before. He rose to his feet quickly and slammed his mouth onto yours, squeezing your hips and the back of your thighs as he directed you to jump and wrap your legs around him. With a level of coordination you didn’t know he had, you were spun around while he walked the both of you to your bed. It was still in the same place it always had been, in the corner by the window. 

He gently sat you on the edge of the bed, kissing down your body until he was once again knelt before you on the floor. The sight of his blown out pupils and swollen lips sent a flash of heat to your core, and you couldn’t even squeeze your thighs together as he was rolling your tights down your legs and swiftly off your feet. 

You never could have anticipated how the night was going to turn out, so your choice in underwear wasn’t the sexiest pair you owned, but that didn’t stop your best friend from planting kisses along the waist band, tentatively dipping his finger tips under the cotton material to start pulling them down. Your breath caught as you raised your hips to help him out, and within seconds your final layer of clothing was added to the pile on the floor. 

Looking down at him, you scooted back towards the headboard with your legs shut, and he crawled up the bed after you. With your head settled on your pillow he hovered above you for a moment, bringing his hand to trace along your jaw and down your neck, looking at you in a way you had only dreamed about thus far. 

You weren’t going to get emotional, but you couldn’t help it. It was just fully hitting you, as you felt the heat radiate off his body, and the weight of him as he settled on top of you. Thankfully your eyes only welled up a tiny bit, but Josh still noticed and his brow furrowed. His eyes softened and he seemed to sense why you were suddenly still and quiet. He could always guess what you were feeling, even when you were kids. 

His thumb brushed your lips so softly you barely felt it, “I know…” 

He kissed the corner of your mouth before leaving a trail of kisses down your throat, chest, and stomach. He brushed his lips across the skin right above your core where your curls started to grow. He was so close to where you needed him. Carefully he planted a few kisses on your thighs before drawing your legs up and bending your knees, taking his time in case you changed your mind at any point. 

Slowly, he spread your legs apart to finally get a proper look at you, and his breath caught in his throat as your gorgeous core laid bare before him. He was glued to his spot on the bed, eyes sweeping your body, having his own moment of realizing that this was real, and you were actually beneath him like this. His eyes traveled back up to yours, unusually silent for someone who always has something to say, no matter the situation. 

Instead, he traveled down the soft flesh of your thigh, leaving searing kisses in his wake. Just when you thought he was going to reach your core, he turned his head to do the same to your other leg. A low whine rumbled in your throat, and you felt his lips spread into a smile against your skin. You felt the faintest huff of breath as he tried to contain a laugh. 

His mouth hovered over your core, just out of reach. He wanted to memorize you, every detail, every feature that was so uniquely you. He used his thumbs to slowly spread your lips apart, dumbfounded at just how wet you were for him and how your arousal was beginning to pool and drip off of you. 

Your hips twitched in his hands, desperate for any contact beyond his feather-light touches. The way he was looking at your body, with blown out pupils and a parted mouth was only driving you crazier. 

At last, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore before dipping his head down to plunge his tongue into your center, moaning as he finally tasted you. A years-long curiosity was answered, and it was better than anything he had tried to imagine. 

The vibrations had you involuntarily arching into his face. He wasted no time to begin lapping at your folds, swirling his tongue wherever he could. But when he finally wrapped his lips around your clit, stars exploded behind your eyelids as you squeezed your eyes shut. 

“Fuck…” was shouted towards the ceiling, and it encouraged him even more as he sucked even harder on your clit as one of his fingers circled your entrance. One of your hands shot down to his hair, tangling your fingers in his curls to hold him in place. His tongue was swirling around your clit now and the finger that had been teasing you slowly entered. Immediately your walls clenched around him, relishing the friction and slight stretch it brought you. 

Josh continued to pump and curl his finger inside you as he spoiled your clit with his tongue. He was so hard that his pants were nearly suffocating him, but he ignored it in favor of giving you all of his attention. A second finger joined the first inside you, and he curled them upwards to hit that spot inside you that had your fingers nearly pulling out his hair and grinding against his face. He could feel the muscles in your thighs tense and strain against his ears. You kept trying to close your legs completely around him, but he used his other hand to anchor you down and keep you spread so he could reach you properly. 

The spring inside you was coiling tighter and tighter, each drag of his fingertips and swipe of his tongue sent you hurtling closer and closer to the edge. 

You were past the point of moaning and could only muster pitiful whines and whimpers. You were so fucking close,  and clinging to his fingers so tightly that he could barely move them. He flattened his tongue against your clit, letting your hips grind and chase your high against him for a few seconds before closing his lips around it once more and sucked on it harshly as you shouted his name. His fingers and mouth worked you through it, letting you ride it out and prolong it as best he could. When your clit became too sensitive he peppered kisses along your thighs again, continuing to pump his fingers slower and slower until he was sure he had felt the last twitch and aftershock of your orgasm. 

He carefully pulled his fingers from you and immediately brought them to his mouth, savoring your taste while cleaning himself off. You used this moment to pull your hand from his hair and down to his cheek, tilting his gaze to you as you propped yourself up on your other elbow. The moonlight caught the shine of your arousal mixed with the matted facial hair. 

Josh quickly sat up on his knees to work at his belt, impatiently sliding off the bed for a moment to fully pull his pants down his legs and off his feet. He was left in his tight boxers, leaving nothing to the imagination as his length pulsed under the fabric. 

Now, it was your turn to crawl over to him, your mouth watering as your eyes traveled down his torso and followed his happy trail to the band of his boxers. You reached up and curled your fingers around the elastic, peeling the final layer of clothing down his thighs and let them pool around his ankles. 

Your eyes were on his cock now, marveling at just how thick it was. Tentatively you reached your hand up to wrap your fingers around it. The feeling of it twitch slightly against your palm sent a shot of arousal through your body. 

He stood stock still at the edge of the bed, his entire body tensing as you touched and felt him. His lower lip was trapped between his teeth and he nearly drew blood when you bent forward and placed a soft kiss on the head. But it was when your lips wrapped around him and your hand slid to the base that his head rolled back on his shoulders and your name escaped his lips. 

A drop of pre-cum landed on your tongue and you wanted nothing more to keep going until he was a whiny mess, shuddering under your touch. 

All too soon his hips backed away from you, pulling his cock from your mouth as you looked up at his almost apologetic eyes. 

“If you keep doing that…”

“But I wanted to keep doing that,” you nearly whined up at him. 

He closed his eyes for a second and breathed through his nose, trying to calm himself down. 

He looked down at you, dark eyes swimming in desire, “but there’s so much more I want to do with you first…” 

He kicked the boxers fully off his feet before kneeling over you on the bed again, flattening you back against your pillows as your legs spread to allow his hips to settle against yours. Briefly his cock was trapped between you, and the feeling of it radiating heat against your skin made you anticipate the next move even more. He captured your lips with his as one of his hands reached down to grip himself, running the head of his cock through your folds and allowing your arousal to coat him before he positioned himself at your entrance. 

You took his bottom lip between your teeth and angled your hips towards him, desperate to finally feel him. 

Slowly he pushed forward, trying to pace himself so this night wouldn’t end embarrassingly fast. 

The way he stretched you as he pushed all the way in had you seeing stars. You felt so full in the best way, like he was made for you. 

“S-so tight…” he hissed as he fully sheathed himself inside you, his pelvic bone resting on your clit. 

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips to keep him in place, wanting him as close to you as possible. 

The two of you remained still, getting used to the feeling of one another before Josh’s own needs started to creep up on him. He pulled back out slightly, before pushing back in. He buried his face into the crook of your neck as he began to move, kissing your neck and throat as you mewled at the stretch and drag of his cock. One arm of his framed your head while the other slid underneath you to grip your ass. He tilted your hips this way so that his pelvis was grinding perfectly against your clit as he built up speed. 

Your nails dug until the skin of his shoulder blades as you tried to hold onto him. You were still so sensitive from your previous orgasm that your second one was quickly building up inside you. You locked your ankles at the small of his back while your hands reached for his face to crash your lips against his. 

At this point he was slamming into you, chasing not only his own high but yours. He needed to feel it. The euphoric squeeze around his fingers earlier wasn’t enough. He needed more. He needed to feel your entire body shudder and quake underneath him;  around him. The sound of your bodies colliding with each other was driving him insane. 

The hand that had been gripping your ass slid around your hip and snaked between you and his fingers pinched and rolled your clit expertly, making your second orgasm his only priority. 

Your back arched at the contact the combined friction of his thick cock and his fingers had you flying off the edge, clamping down around him as you shouted his name again into the air. 

“God..fuck…sh-,” expletives tumbled from his mouth as he felt you shake from your orgasm. He tried to hold back but his cock twitched inside you and he bottomed out one last time as his release coated your walls. He tried his best to keep working you through yours, using every synapse in his brain to ignore his own heightened sensitivity. 

Eventually, you both came down from your highs and your bodies relaxed against each other and the bed. Your eyes fluttered open to find him staring at you, his face soft like it had been when he had first looked at your body fully. His lips were parted in awe, and you brushed your thumb across them. 

“That…should’ve happened a long time ago…” he confessed trying to catch his breath. 

“Agreed.”

His mouth formed a smile and his eyes twinkled, “but hey…this time I really did go upstairs with a girl and hooked up with her…”

“Josh!” Your eyes widened and you playfully pushed his shoulder. He laughed into a kiss before turning to look at the door on the far wall of your room. 

“Bathroom, right?”

You nodded with a smile and he slowly pulled out of you, hissing at the sensitivity and the cold air hitting his cock. He beelined for the door and you heard water running briefly before he returned with a thankfully warm washcloth to clean the both of you up. He discarded it into the hamper before crawling back into bed with you, gathering your body in his arms under the covers. 

The way his breath washed over your neck was so comforting and warm that sleep quickly overtook you and you drifted off while you felt his lips brush your skin. 

The next morning, sunlight streamed into your room. Josh was the first to pry his eyes open, and in the silence he took in just how much of a time capsule your room was. The same posters were on your walls, a couple film posters he had given you himself. An obsolete iHome sat on the top of your dresser, surrounded by a collection of jewelry and trinkets that looked familiar to him. 

You stirred in his arms, and he rasped in your ear, “Mmm…morning, lover.” 

The endearment sent a jolt of adrenaline through you and your eyes shot open. It was real. He was really in your bed, his strong arms holding you as those beautiful eyes looked at you in reverence. Your heart was stuttering in your chest. 

“Morning…” you replied, forefinger and thumb capturing his chin and pulling him down for a slow kiss. 

For a while the two of you just cuddled in silence, before a buzz from Josh’s pants pocket on the floor alerted him to a text. Reluctantly, he reached down towards the floor to fish his phone out of the pocket. His notifications were a bunch of texts from his brothers asking for his whereabouts and when he was going to grace them with his presence again. Quickly he typed out a few responses, not fully giving away how his night ended up but letting them know he wasn’t lying in a ditch somewhere. 

He sighed as he placed his phone on your nightstand. 

“I’m being summoned…”

You felt a pang in your heart, the other reality of him eventually leaving hitting you. 

He felt you tense in his arms and his brows furrowed, “what’s wrong?” 

You turned to face him fully, not wanting to sound needy or clingy, but not knowing how else to put it, “I just…I don’t want you to go…” 

“You can come with me if you want! I’m sure my mom would love to see you and Jake-”

You cut him off, “right but…what happens after that?” 

He looked confused, “what do you mean?” 

You wanted the earth to open up and swallow you at this point, but you needed to know, “what does this mean…?” 

Realization formed on his face as he connected the dots, then shyness crept over his features, “what do you want it to mean?”

“We can’t just go back to being friends now…I can’t pretend that this never happened and-.” your chin wobbled a little as you tried to explain yourself, trying to keep your emotions at bay, but remembering how he had literally just called you lover made it impossible. 

“I don’t think we can go back to being just friends either…” he started. You started to panic  before he continued, “and I don’t have it in me to even try to pretend this never happened. I can’t go back to being a stranger, or just some guy you went to school with.”

“You were never just some guy, Josh…”

He rolled over you, hovering his face above yours, “then maybe…we can see how this goes…?”

You bit your lip, “yeah?” 

He smiled, “yeah,” before slotting his lips over yours and giving you the most tender kiss so far. He relaxed on top of you, allowing himself to be wrapped up in your arms as you lazily made out together as the sun slipped behind some clouds and it began snowing again. 

Eventually you made it out of bed to shower and get dressed. As Josh donned his outfit from the night before, he couldn’t help but be a little smug at how it would be a dead giveaway to what he had been up to the previous night. But then he remembered who his brothers were. 

He looked up hastily as he tied his shoes, “I do have to warn you that my brothers are going to be really annoying about this, but just ignore it.” 

You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “it’ll be fine, Josh.” 

He smiled and rose to his feet, kissing you again. 

Soon you were carefully making it down the snowy steps, trying to get to your car when Josh froze on the bottom step. You nearly collided with his back when you looked in the direction he was looking at and made direct eye contact with…your father. Your dad was standing on the covered porch, drinking a coffee. 

Well fuck. 

Josh and your dad seemed to be in a weird staring contest, silently communicating with each other. 

You stepped around Josh, hitting your key fob to unlock your car. 

“Not exactly what I had in mind when I told you you were always welcome at my house, Josh…” 

Your face flushed with embarrassment, “oh my god, Dad…” 

Quickly you and Josh bolted to your car, but not before Josh gave a toothy grin and wave at your dad, exclaiming, “nice to see you!” before shutting his door. 

You gave him a look as you clicked your seatbelt and started the car. 

He threw his hands up. grinning, “what? It could’ve been worse.” 

But as you pulled out of your driveway, and pulled up to the first stop sign on the street, Josh reached over the console and took your hand, bringing your fingers to his lips and giving them a soft kiss. The embarrassment from earlier melted away as he gave you that look again.

Your cheeks betrayed you and splotched with red. Inwardly you figured you’d always do that when he looked at you like that, and the thought warmed you instead of bothering you this time. 

It wasn’t long before you pulled into Josh’s family driveway. The drive over had been pure muscle memory and comfortable silence between the two of you. 

But as you got out of your car, you were met with the all too familiar voice of his youngest brother, Sam. 

“Oh my fucking god, I knew it!” He yelled from the top of the driveway. 

“Shut up, Sam,” Josh warned as he rounded the car to you and took your hand.

“Shut up, Sam,” the younger brother mocked right back at him, laughing his signature laugh. 

But for once, the holidays didn’t seem as daunting now that you had your best friend, Josh, back at your side. 

Fin

Tag List:  @dannyandthekiszkas , @readyforthegarden , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema, @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne, @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @childinthegardenn , @char289 , @stardustvanfleet , @sunfl0wer-power , @holdingup-fallingsky , @bladenotblaze , @gretavanlace , @lipstickitty , @jjwasneverhere , @josiee-gvf , @peaceloveunitygvf , @musicislove3389 , @gretavanhockey , @gretavanazula

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mistle-hoe

Warnings: noncon and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Summary: You take on a job at the holidays to get some extra money, but you get way more than that.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Day Thirty-One of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - how is the mistletoe following you around?

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

‘Hey, where u at?’ 

You sigh at the text message and type a flurried response before you tuck your phone in your back pocket. ‘Work’. Of course, Alicia is so self-involved, she can’t remember the one thing you told her a dozen times.

Sorry, can’t make the New Year’s Eve shindig, I need the money. 

“These shirts are... scratchy,” Paulina distracts you from your irritation, sparking a new agitation just beneath your skin. You look down at the attire and shrug. “But fancy.” 

You look down at the sparkly monstrosity. Silver isn’t really your colour. For a price, it can be. That night, you’ll be making double overtime and a tip. It’s more than worth skipping one of Alicia’s ridiculous drunken spectacles. 

“A little,” you adjust the trap. The rest of your outfit is standard; black pants, black shoes, heeled just as the job description specified. You prefer your flats with the inserts but you can bear a bit of arch pain for the check at the end of the night. Rather, year. 

“Must be quite the event,” you comment as you take a loaded tray; lobster, shrimp, mussels. The typical fair would be macaroni and cheese bites or pigs in a blanket. Tonight, is a fine affair. 

“CEOs,” Krista comes up on your other side. “So I hear. Bunch of rich old men. Just make sure you’re generous with the wine. You’ll get a bigger tip.” 

“Huh, right,” you lift the heavy tray and balance it expertly. “It might even cut short the night.” 

“Looking at some of these guys, you’re probably right,” Paulina snickers. “I’m seeing a lot of silver, not just these things.” She pinches a sequin on her shirt. “Ugh, the liner on this is awful.” 

You agree. You could throw the tray of appetizers and scratch your own skin off. You’ve dealt with worse. It’s part of the job. Banquets, work lunches, even weddings. Serving isn’t as glamourous as those melodramatic reality shows might suggest. 

You carry the tray through the curtain and start your rounds. It is a rather stuffy gathering. Black tie and all. As you silently offer your fare, acting as the perfect conveyor of gluttony, you notice a peculiar detail. Among all the tailored jackets, silk ties, and quaffed haircuts, there are no women. Not aside from you and the other servers. 

It might just be that it’s a boys’ club. That good old glass ceiling is thicker than you expect. Still, these things are rarely very lively without a female element. That’s not really your concern. You’re not the event planner, you’re just a walking table. 

“That shrimp?” A voice calls over. You turn as a man beckons you closer with his glass.  

You approach him as he turns with interest to the tray. He keeps one hand in his jacket pocket as you present the tray with indifference. He sports a rather bristly mustache and tidy haircut. It’s a choice. With money like his, style is expendable. 

“Oh, would you look at this,” he brings his hand out of his pocket and raises it high above the tray, “what do ya know?” 

You lock down a stoic expression and peer up at the cluster in his hand. Seriously? Your uncle used to pull that trick on your aunts. It was always kind of gross. 

“So uh... looks like we got caught, huh,” the man snickers. 

You look at him, horrified. He can’t be serious. Yet, if he’s a rich as they say, you expect that boundaries are nothing but a paywall to him. 

“You know it’s bad luck to break tradition,” he wiggles the mistletoe over you. “Don’t wanna start the new year off on a sour note, toots.” 

You tilt your head. You’re actually speechless. Not just your usual deferential silence, you really don’t know how to response. 

He presses his knuckles against the tray with his other hand, still gripping his glass, and steps closer. Your lashes flick in shock and your turn your head at the last moment as he puckers so he gets your cheek. His lips are wet with alcohol. Smells like gin. 

“Mm, downer,” he pulls back, “I'll get the lips next time.” 

He winks and retracts his arm, tucking away the mistletoe. He scoops up one of the skewers of shrimp and struts off without another word. God, that was slimy. You bend your head and wipe your cheek on your shoulder. 

You should warn the others. Avoid the one with the pornstache. Ugh. Why do men do this? Just think off the money. 

As you turn, Paulina’s tinkling giggle draws your attention. A man offers her a drink from his glass. You’re disappointed to see her accept. That’s a firing offence in most jobs. Not only that, it sets a bad precedence. These men don’t seem to have much restraint as it is. 

You crawl through, putting the tray out to reach hands. The air is cool as it speckles over your bare arms. You sidle around as you carry only scraps and return to curtained off space by the kitchen window. You trade your tray for a smaller one set with pre-mixed martinis. 

Another lap. The time sifts by slowly. You’re definitely earning the double overtime. Two white-haired men ogle you as they accept a martini. One sucks the olives off the toothpick as he leers. You keep a tight-lipped smile and move on. 

“Ah, don’t mind if I do,” that same timbre draws you around to face the mustachioed man. He sets his empty glass on the tray and takes one of the stemmed martinis, “you like gin, baby face?” 

“Sir,” you neither confirm or deny. He slurps noisily and rocks on his feet. 

You don’t have the space to angle around him. He seems to know it as he widens his stance and corners you further. You nearly groan as you sense his arm rising once more. No! 

The mistletoe jingles over your head, a small bell among the leaves. You stare at him with open concern. You’re helpless with your armful of drinks. 

“Ah, come on, don’t be shy,” he shifts closer, leaning in as he turns his cheek to you, “just a little one, right here.” 

You stare at his cheek. You just want this to be over with. Then you’ll be more vigilant and avoid him like the plague. You go to peck his cheekbone and he quickly snaps his head around and presses his lips to yours. You gasp and recoil, struggling not to spill the martinis as they slosh dangerously. 

He cackles and drains the martini. “Cute, I like it,” he wiggles the mistletoe again. “Hard to get, huh?” 

You back up and turn. Humiliated. What the hell? 

You glance around. Paulina’s sitting across to men’s laps as they feed her strawberries, one stroking her hip as the other keeps a hand on your thigh. Holy shit. This is getting strange. 

Krista is against the wall with another man, gray and balding. He whispers in her ear as she giggles and rubs his chest. Are you the only one working around here? 

You hurry behind the curtain and put the tray down. Where is Doris? This is her event. She should be keeping an eye on this. These men are animals. 

You peek through the curtain, scouring the room for her. You turn and go into the kitchen. It’s a frantic nest of chaos but she’s not there. Shit. You really don’t want to walk out, you need the money badly, but this is too much. You’re a server, not... what these men want you to do. 

“Oops,” the drawl makes you shudder as you walk directly into another body. The snicker that follows makes your skin crawl. It’s him. Again. “Think I’m lost, honey bee.” 

You look up at him and purse your lips. This is too much. This man is gross. 

“You can’t be back here--” 

“Baby, just a kiss,” he smirks. 

You stare at him, waiting for him to lift that stupid mistletoe. He doesn’t. You frown. 

“It’s caught,” he looks down and tilts his pelvis. The leaves are clips to his belt buckle, “would you look at that?” 

You take a step back as your nose flares. “Alright, sir, that’s inappropriate--” 

“Shhh,” he hushes you as he gets closer. “Go on, earn it, baby.” 

“Huh?” You grimace. 

“You think we’re paying top dollar for gin and fish. Go on and give it a kiss,” he grabs his belt and jingles the bell. “I’ll put an extra grand on your tip if you put one on mine.” 

You cringe and step back. He grabs your arm and you cry out. You bring your other hand up to shove his chest. 

“Hey, I’m not—I'm not prostitute, you weirdo,” you snarl as you wrestle with him. 

“Oh, that’s fine. I’ll go for an under the table favour,” he growls. 

“Get off--” You struggle with him, fighting his strength as he keeps one hand on your wrist and the other snakes around your waist. You raise your voice as you snarl. “Dude, fuck off of me.” 

The door to the kitchen swings open and you look over desperately. Thank god. You push against the man as you send Doris a pleading look. 

“Hey, this guy won’t-- leave me--” 

“Keep it down, sweetheart,” she tuts. “You’re going to ruin the party.” She looks at the man, “Mr. Hansen, have you found everything to your liking?” 

“Oh, sure,” the man replies brightly, “I don’t mind working for it.” 

You hit his chest with your fist and try to stomp his foot, “Doris! You can’t--” 

She struts away, disappearing beyond the curtain. You whine as the man squeezes you to him and you writhe. What the fuck? 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he nuzzles your temple as your squirm, his mustache tickling your hairline, “I’ll give you a special kiss too.” His hand slips down to your ass and he gropes until you squeal. “Feel like you need that kitty eaten good.” 

“You’re.... disgusting,” you sneer as you wriggle in his grasp. 

“Oh, you’re about to find out how right you are,” he snickers and pushes his crotch against you. “One fucking lick at a time.” 

[aspirationalpeony]

Finding Beauty

Summary: You accidentally uncover an insecurity of Melissa's one night when you're in bed, and reassure her just how perfect she is. Content Warnings: Lots of body image talk, references to weight, and a brush with misogyny (thanks, Joe). Also, lots of smut. AO3 Link (also contains an author's note!)

Melissa Schemmenti isn't shy.

You can think of a lot of things she is: brave, intense, smart, intimidating, sexy. But shy? No, never. Still...

There are some times when she withdraws from you--almost cringes away, like you've touched some invisible bruise. A wall comes up between you then, and her eyes--their volatile green always so full of close attention and fierce emotion--go sallow and gray and remote. Her chin ducks to her chest. Her smile vanishes.

Then she hides it, or tries: "What, you think I'm an idiot?" she'll say, bluffing, embarrassed, and you'll understand you've accidentally nudged that hurt child who thought she was stupid for years. "Oh, yeah, thanks for your opinion," she'll tell you dryly on another occasion, when you've told her that you love the way her blouse shows the soft curve of her belly, and you'll know she's thinking of all the times Joe and Kristen-Marie and everyone else in her life called her fat.

Those moments are rare at first. Just a glimmer, here and there, quickly forgotten in the early fun of your relationship. Then more. More, because you're getting closer to her. More, because Melissa Schemmenti never lets anyone in, and she's letting you in, and you can see how much that scares her.

In bed, though, you've never seen that version of her, retreating, nervous, afraid. When Melissa has her hands on you, it's heat and lightning. Her confidence is unreal. She initiated your first kiss, not the cautious thing you'd have given her if you were in control; she'd just grabbed your face and gone for it, straining on her tiptoes to meet you and slotting her mouth against hers, and all you tasted at first was the slippery gloss on her lips. Then you felt her tongue, and you melted. You were hers, right then.

There was never any time for you to be timid about it. From the first night you spent together, she just yanked off your clothes and went for it, the same way she'd kissed you, touching you with intent and urgency and focus. Her fingernails scratching lightly at your scalp, her mouth biting and sucking at your clavicle, her breasts pressed hard against yours, her hips rocking, rocking, and you couldn't get enough; you could never get enough of her fingers buried inside you, of her lips on your nipple, her cunt riding your thigh, drowning in the mingled scents of skin and hairspray and perfume and sex.

Then, one night--then, she gets shy.

You've always reciprocated in bed with her, but usually after she's put you through a few pulverizing rounds; when you're exhausted and the lights are already low and it takes little for her to come. She usually needs a little lube to help her along ("when you're my age, hon...") but it's not a detraction; far from it. You like trying flavors and letting them mingle with her taste, or slicking your fingers and stroking her so slowly that even with that hair-trigger clit, she can't quite come, not until she's cursed you out to hell and back.

Tonight, though, you're hungry for her; craving in a way that speaks to the long weeks of standardized test prep that have eaten both of you alive with mental load and exhaustion. You need her. You need to have her, in the same way she usually has you, turn her pliant and desperate and needy and make her melt across the mattress. The overhead light is still on when you're peeling her panties down her legs and kissing her belly and hips and ready to settle between her thighs, to lick her until she passes out. Then she squirms. Not in the sexy way.

You look up her body. She's picture-perfect like this, all plump hips and thighs and belly and her crinkle-tipped breasts, so sexy you can't get enough, but she's staring up at the ceiling like she's lying in the chair at the dentist's office.

"Mel?" you say.

She looks down at you and you see the closed door behind her eyes. She's gone shy.

"What is it, baby?" You push yourself up on one elbow and her leg slides off your shoulder. "You okay? You want me to stop?"

Her eyes go back up and search the ceiling. The pink in her cheeks isn't all arousal, you know that. "Maybe we can turn the light off?"

You frown. She loves fucking you with the lights on: lets her map every inch, every freckle, coo over old hickeys and leave you some new ones.

"You know, just, you're gonna be..." She clears her throat. She's struggling, you can see: can't smother her vulnerability with bravado, that old war between honesty and tactical retreat showing on her face. "You're gonna be lookin', and, well..."

"I love looking at you," you say.

"I mean," she says, "at my--you know, you're gonna be lookin' at my pussy, and--"

"What's wrong with your pussy?"

She groans, putting her hands over her face.

You imitate her a little, trying to coax her out from behind those hands, voice tender and warm with humor. "Still works, don't it?"

"That's not what I mean," she says, voice muffled by her palms. "I mean you're gonna be lookin' at it, and I know it's sort of--busted-lookin', I mean, Joe always said, all the guys before him, you know, kinda fucked it up, so it's ugly, and--"

"What?" You gape at her. You know she's really scared, really humiliated, when she peeks at you from behind her hands then swiftly retreats again, burying her bright-red face in them. "You--what?"

"It's ugly," she repeats. "I don't want you to have to... See it."

Something clicks into place. You've had sex plenty of times before--on her terms. That always seemed natural to you; she was older, her personality stronger, and she loved to boss people around. Why not you, too, especially when you enjoyed it so much? But suddenly you're realizing just how stage-managed sex has been between the two of you: moments picked by Mel, lingerie sets under her daily clothes, her toys, her lube, usually her bed, too, and she decides when the lights go off. Rarely anything in broad daylight, rarely her getting off first, except when she'll take your hand and tuck it into her jeans or rub herself on your hip for fun. Usually she wears you out before you ever touch her.

Because she thinks this intimate part of her is ugly? Because Joe told her something--and maybe other people in her life--and it's stuck, about a part of her body that should only bring her pleasure. All that planning so you'd never be face-to-face with a piece of her that might repulse you.

Anger flows down your body in white-hot rivulets. You hate Joe. You're going to rip his stupid dick off. You hate him and every person who ever told Mel something so stupid, like having sex could alter her body that way, could make her look busted, as if there was any wrong way for her pussy to look.

She peeks at you again from under her hands. The look is so un-Melissa, so sensitive and uncertain, that your anger dies all at once. Suddenly all that matters is protecting, loving, that tender piece of her that's showing on her face right now; a little node deep inside that's vulnerability through-and-through, her secret, sensitive heart. The feeling swells inside your chest.

You lean back down and slide your arms under her thighs, slotting yourself back into place, right where you want to be. She makes a little "uh" sound, surprised and uneasy. Now you're where she was so scared to have you, face to face with her cunt. You've explored it before, but in the dark, by feel or in glimpses.

She shaves, but keeps a patch of curls on her mound; it's as much gray as dark auburn, hinting at the real color of the hair on her head. Below is her flushed, swelling cunt. You can smell her, musky and saline. The lips of her pussy are big and plump; they have a natural spread, showing their tender interior like the open petals of an orchid. Her clit crowns them, already reddening. You know from experience how incredible this part of her body is, made for pleasure.

Maybe Joe meant her labia, that they were too long or something. Busted. Fucking busted? You lower your head and rub your face right into her. She gasps aloud and her hands go to your hair, grabbing hard. She's not dripping--won't be without the lube--but she's plenty wet enough for you to know she's turned on, to have slick to ease the way you drag your nose up through her folds and against her clit, making her buck and whimper.

"Oh, shit," she says feebly as you run the flat of your tongue up the same path, flicking her clit with the tip. "Oh, shit--I--baby--" you start to play with those labia, sucking them into your mouth with a hum, one then the other, tasting and feeling, loving their texture, the delicacy of the skin. Then you have to put your tongue inside her, even if all she feels is the drag of it over the sensitive nerves at the twitching entrance to her sex, have to feel her from the inside, velvet walls gripping you hard.

"I, I," she's saying, but you're not paying attention. You can't help it. Everything's focused to a fine point right where your face and her pussy intersect.

You love this part of her. Every part of her, even when she doesn't--all those parts of her body that are soft instead of taut and slim, all the places where cellulite shows on her thighs and her perfect ass, the way her stomach folds into tender rolls, how the delicate skin of her neck records her age--and you love this perfect pussy, how much of her there is to fill your mouth, how sensitive she is, how you don't even need to touch her twitching clit for her hips to buck and her body to writhe.

You drag your tongue up and circle her clit. She arches like you've touched her with a live wire. You moan into her and nose that little bud; she keens. Her hips start to grind, trying to find a rhythm against your face. It's classic Mel, trying to take control. You shift so you can throw your arm across her hips and pin her down and you feel more than hear the way she gasps, your face still bracketed by her soft thighs. Her hand scrabbles at yours and when you offer it up, she grips it hard.

Love you, you think, trying to paint the words into her with your tongue, to make her feel loved in a way she'll believe. Love you, love you, love you... You have mercy and suck her clit into your mouth. The hand still in your hair yanks hard. It won't take much for her to come: get her worked up far enough and Mel barely needs anything to go over the edge. Someday, maybe, when she feels more okay about this, you'll play with that--play with working her up and up and up, denying her the thing that will tip her over.

You suck on her, rock your mouth against her twice, three times, and she's gone. Her thighs close around your head but you can still hear her wail, loud enough to wake the neighbors, voice cracking, going hoarse halfway. You tilt your head and try a few more experimental sucks, feeling the jump of her hips in answer. She starts babbling somewhere over your head, "Baby, baby, I, oh, oh--" and you've never heard her like that, ever, voice faint and airy and desperate, so you keep going. "Oh God!"

She's over the edge again; you can tell by the way her back arches and strains, and that powerful grip she's still got on your hair. You hum into her and she answers with a broken little sound you want to hear every night for the rest of your life. You give her clit an experimental lick--third time's the charm?--but she lets go of your hair and pushes a little at your forehead, feebly, so you take the hint and move back down to slide your tongue back into her.

She's so delicious, so good. You just want to taste her like this forever, tease her and play with her until she can't take it. She's giving you little moans and whimpers from above, but her body has relaxed down onto the bed, the tension wrenched out of her by two orgasms. You can't help it, you give her clit a little kiss before you let go--it makes her squeak--and let her legs slide off your shoulders.

She looks so good when she's just-fucked, her hair damp at the hairline and starting to frizz a little, her face bright red and glistening, a patchy blush showing on her chest. She has a look on her face, though, that you can't interpret, almost like the person sitting up between her legs wasn't who she expected--like you're a stranger. She's panting, staring at you, green eyes full of all that feeling, and a little knot of doubt starts to tie low in your belly. Did you cross a line?

"C'mere," she croaks. You move up the bed. She reaches up to take your shoulders and pull you into her and she licks a broad stripe up your wet chin--her juices, your saliva--and puts her tongue right in your mouth. It's so sudden, so direct and intense, so Mel that you moan aloud.

She wraps her legs around you to hold you securely against her body. For good measure, she grabs your ass, too, and her nails prickle at the soft flesh. You relax against her. You could spend forever like this, right here, cradled against the abundance of her curves, her breasts pushing against yours, her teeth on your lower lip.

You part for air. The look of bewilderment on her face has eased, mellowing into something that's still a little confused, but tender and open, too. She might close up again soon--that's just Mel, and you understand it; she can't be vulnerable for too long, can't let her weakness show. You know there are stories to explain it, and someday she'll trust you enough to tell you all of it; the same way she trusted you, tonight, to hear what she really felt. To let you help, even a little, and make it better.

"I love you," you tell her. Her gaze stays on yours, trusting. "I love you so much." You peck a damp kiss onto her jaw. "And for the record," you add, sliding into your gruff imitation of her thick South accent, deepening your voice to do it, "this thing--" you drop your hand between her legs and cup her swollen pussy, squeezing; she actually squeals. "Is so pretty, Georgia O'Keeffe would'a begged to paint it."

She laughs aloud. You don't know that you've heard that exact laugh from her before, so free and happy. You turn it into a gasp when you thread your fingers into the coarse curls on her mound and gently tug. "Okay, okay," she says weakly, breathlessly. Obligingly you stop; she follows up with a slap to your ass that makes you squeal and laugh.

Her head rolls back onto the pillows. She looks exhausted, as much by the emotions of the night as by the sex itself. Exhausted, but happy. You lean down and nuzzle her cheek.

"I really love ya," she says, very softly, like a child whispering their secret. Her hand rubs up your back. "Th--thank you." She says it even more timidly, like you might make fun of her, reject the simple gratitude she's offering.

"It's okay," you tell her gently. Her eyes search yours. You see her smile start there, before it comes to her lips, when you tell her, with all the love in your heart, "You're safe."

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader [18+] | p. 13

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

-> <-

February 1984

Eddie slams his fist into the vending machine. The bastard ate his last dollar, and is refusing to return the other quarter he slid into the machine. This is just his luck.

"I might have another dollar," Gareth offers up.

Eddie shakes his head. "Don't bother.”

Gareth is already fishing through his wallet. Shit, he might have quarters to give up to his friend. Money has been tight on Eddie - Gareth was over last weekend, and the fridge was empty. Not to mention that he also caught a glimpse into Eddie's lunchbox, and there was hardly any food inside. A bag of pretzels, and an old napkin.

While fishing in his wallet, Gareth drops something. It lands with a plop on the school linoleum. Racing to snatch the condom, before Eddie can get his hands on it - he fails. Eddie flicks it between his fingers thoughtfully.

“Uh,” Gareth holds out one more quarter, “trade?”

How could this be any more awkward? With an audience maybe? Eddie didn’t even know you two were at that point in your relationship. Well, he still doesn’t. Should he ask?

Eddie doesn’t say a word, and Gareth takes the condom back. To prevent that from happening again, Gareth makes sure it’s secure in a deeper part of his wallet.

Clunk - clunk - clunk.

The vending machine does take Gareth’s quarters. With an aching buzz and a whirl, Eddie now has lunch. A crappy bag of chips that would fill him for another hour at best. Maybe he should have payed closer attention to his choices.

Suddenly, the hallway from the vending machines to the cafeteria feels more like a million steps instead of just a couple around the corner. The boys scuffle along the tile making an awful racket. Eddie pops the chip bag open upside down, and offers the snack out to Gareth.

“I’m good,” he doesn’t want to take away food from Eddie right now.

Eddie shrugs his shoulders, and tries his best not to look terribly ravenous eating the chips in front of him. The cold truth is that he is surviving on junk until this Friday when Wayne gets paid. That, or he meets up with his boss. Eddie gets a sizable cut for the deals he makes selling weed to the kids that hate him the most. Rich kids. Church kids. All that matters is that these hypocrites have the cash, and Eddie hands out the supply. It’s simple. Very under the table.

The thing he can’t get off his mind is what Gareth is carrying around with him. A condom. It’s one condom.

Of course, Eddie knows what it is for. The better question is have you done it? Have you let Gareth do that to you? It’s against his better judgment that he asks the fatal question. He might as well load the bullet into the gun, then point it at his head, before letting Gareth pull the trigger.

“Are you guys- uh- have you guys-,”

Gareth stops abruptly in the hallway. This is not the conversation that he wishes to have right now. Not with Eddie in the least. Although, the halls are bare except for the few darting to the bathroom to smoke while the teachers aren’t looking. He’s done that enough times.

Truthfully, Gareth only stuck that thing in his wallet when the two of you began to date. Going to the store to buy them was enough of a challenge not to be seen by anyone from school or by anyone around town that his mom might know. The cashier gave him enough of a look over that made Gareth wonder if this was even a good idea in the first place.

It’s on his mind - you and him - like that. Sometimes Gareth wonders if he’s just a pervert because surely you can’t have the same mind that he does. Then again, you have needs too. Right?

Gareth is jittery already. It’s Valentine’s Day, and aside from buying you a bouquet of flowers, he’s also taking you to the school dance tonight. There’s a big announcement about it around a month ago.

You show little interest in the events around school, but every once in a while Gareth sees a twinge of excitement come from you. A flyer in the hallway caught your eye, and so he asked you. You were just as shocked as he was when the words flew out of his mouth. But, the smile grew on your face and he was smitten.

Gareth is thrilled to escort you to the dance. The nerves draw from getting dressed tonight. He’s got no idea what you’re wearing, but his tie will match your dress. For only this night, his mom is allowing him to borrow the car. She expects him to take you there and back in one piece. That is his plan too.

For the most part, his mom trusts him. The only child. The only one she’s got to keep an eye on. She’s proud of who he’s become as he’s growing up. Gareth regularly tries to stay out of trouble despite his outward appearance, and the ear shattering music that comes from the garage.

Gareth wants to continue his string of good luck with his mom by following her rules. The only problem is that now he has a condom in his wallet. A new player has entered the battlefield.

To tell Eddie the truth, Gareth has wanted to ask for his advice. How does he even approach the question? Is it a question? He doesn’t just want to start anything with you, and then you’re uncomfortable.

Eddie has experience. Gareth knows this. There’s been a time or two that Eddie has accepted a different form of payment to his after-school transactions. It’s not like he’s implied that any of his customers have to do that. But, as Eddie says, it’s the perks of being a good businessman. He takes it as a tip.

The only problem with asking Eddie for advice is how close you two are. If he found out that Gareth needed help in that department, then it would be easy to tell who he was talking about. And, if he isn’t talking about you, then who’s he talking about and how easy could Eddie hide Gareth’s body when he’s through with him.

Gareth scratches the back of his neck trying to find the words to reply to Eddie in a manner that’s not outwardly asking for sex advice. As he’s scanning his brain, Eddie is holding his breath for an answer. An honest answer.

“We’re not,” Gareth answers him finally, and thus letting Eddie breathe again. “I don’t know -,”

There’s a pregnant pause. Either boy doesn’t speak. The hallway stinks of cafeteria food bleeding down the rest of the school. It’ll smell like that all day. At least the biology classes haven’t started dissecting frogs yet.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Eddie huffs. “Either you are or you aren’t.”

Why did Eddie want to know so badly? He wishes he could shove his foot into his own mouth. A part of him wants to hear Gareth say that they are doing that. No idea why. Gareth isn’t the worst person in the world for you to be doing that with. It’s just - maybe someday, Eddie had hoped that would be him.

Eddie really has to give up on the thought of you two ever becoming a thing. It’s not healthy. It’s selfish. You’re into Gareth. And, if he’s making you happy then Eddie should be too. Even though the sting still feels fresh against his alabaster skin.

“Gareth."

Gareth winces at how abrupt his friend calls him by name.

“Just,” Eddie pinches his brows together, “be kind to her. And do me a favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Please, spare me the details.”

-> <-

The sun has just set across Hawkins, but there is no moon to be seen. Clouds across the sky cast a blue-gray haze over the town. This doesn’t stop you from wearing your most favorite piece in your closet. Now you have an excuse to wear it, since your birthday didn’t work out. You zip up the back of the dress that Gareth bought for you.

Your hands dance along the side of the fabric that hugs at your waist. Lips press together to blend your lipstick in better, while you check all the details in your mascara.

The quiet air is suddenly broken by the shattering sound of glass in the kitchen. Even in a pair of heels, you’re quick to race out of your room.

Standing over twinkles of shards, your mother has drunkenly let a drinking glass slip from her grasp. Her hand trembles, but she doesn’t make much noise at the mess in front of her.

“Are you okay?” You stand in front of her on the other side of the mess.

Your mom has been home for a total of three days. That’s more time that you’ve ever seen her in the last few months. You’ve become quite used to coming home to a quiet house. The one day when she had shown up, you thought she was an intruder and you armed yourself with the baseball bat you have by your bedside.

Surprisingly, the moment she came home she was sober. No idea how she got home. That lasted all of an hour when she claimed she had a headache, then went out for booze. She came home again, and drank through nearly a bottle and a half of vodka. Enough to kill her. Maybe that was her plan. Leave you with the debt, and she’ll be buried six feet under.

None-the-less for some reason you still care. Three whole days of this, and you’ll still reach your arm out to catch her when she sways. She flinches away from you. Not a fan of touch anymore. At least, not your touch. She still has clients she reaches out too at ungodly hours of the night. She’s loud about the conversations, but if you ask her to lower her voice then she calls you unbearably nosey.

Why are you so glad to have her home? It’s so confusing all the time. The way you pick up after her. You’ve taken on her responsibilities. Shit, you’re looking for a job to begin to pay the bills that she can’t afford.

You’re sweeping the last of the glass, while your mother nurses a bottle of tequila in the dark corner of your kitchen. She hasn’t cut herself from the glass that she’s dropped.

“There’s macaroni in the fridge,” it’s like reasoning with a spirit in a human body. “Please eat.”

Your mother groans. All you do is pester her. Why did she have your ungrateful ass in the first place? A cat would have been less trouble than you.

There is a knock at the front door. You aren’t expecting anyone, but maybe your mom is. There are plenty of dirty men that want something from her.

“Gareth?” You pull open the door, and there is your date for the evening. Clean. Suit and tie. He smells expensive. All this for you. You shut the door behind you fearing your mom might gain a wind of energy. “What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting at the dance?”

Gareth is awestruck by you. For one, your radiance is unmatched and is indescribable in words. His jaw hits your porch.

“You look-,” he’s flattered you wore the dress, “God, you’re beautiful. How did I get so lucky?”

It is your turn to blush. To forget who’s behind you inside. Little do you know her ear is to the front door listening to the hooligans on her porch. They’re whispering about her!

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you acknowledge, but the scuffling behind the closed door brings you back to reality. “Er- the dance?”

“Right,” he swings his arm out to show off his mom’s station wagon, “my mom lent me her car tonight.”

“Oh, wow,” you’re both impressed, and terrified that your mother is planning her great escape.

That she is. One more word comes through her head that her kid is conspiring against her. She’s being sold out!

Swinging open the front door, she knocks into open archway. At least she doesn’t have a bottle of liquor anymore. Unless, that means your mom has finished that one too.

“Mom,” you plead, “it’s fine - go back inside.”

She assesses. Gareth is in a suit, but he’s too young to be a government spy. So, she accepts that he’s here for one thing. An exchange.

“Who are you?” The words come out in a slur that almost sounds animatronic. This is the most she’s spoken since coming home. It’s hoarse. That could be the alcohol. “Are you handsomely paid?”

Gareth’s face has fallen.

“Mommy,” you beg, “go back inside. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Her laugh is soaked in alcohol. “Please. You’re on your way to getting bred and dumped like me. Trust me - having a kid is the worst thing you could do.”

It’s clear to you now that she’s completely unaware who she is talking too, or has been talking too the whole time she’s been home. That’s why you’ve kept yourself locked in your room fearing she may forget you’re home, and mistake you for an intruder.

Still, the punch to the gut doesn’t hurt any less. Not only are you miserably unloved by the one person you know by blood, but your boyfriend stands mere steps away from you watching the whole exchange. You wouldn’t be surprised if Gareth turns to run.

This is the final act from your mother tonight. She swirls around on her heel, before retiring into the blackness of her bedroom. It’s safe when you hear her bedroom close.

“My purse,” you excuse yourself from Gareth a moment to tip-toe back into the trailer for your bag on the kitchen counter. Only five dollars is left in there. You should have known she would take it.

Gareth stays quiet - studying his shoes. You’ve never invited him over to your house before. Sure, he’s been around the neighborhood. Not when your mother is home. Things begin to make more sense about where she’s been on these “work trips” you’ve told him about.

“Let’s go,” you lock the door behind you.

The car ride is quiet, aside from the radio playing music that you’re unfamiliar with. His mom’s favorite stations, perhaps. You’re not sure if he’s waiting for you to cry or something. Confessing your mom is a drunk - or a pill popper - or a prostitute - yeah, that isn’t exactly on your agenda.

You don’t notice, but you’ve made it to the school. The building looks so different at night. It’s not as intimidating without all the expectations written on chalkboards, or the smell of the pages of used textbooks. Tonight the only area well-lit is the gymnasium. A girl’s laugh echos that brings you back to where you are. Earth.

Gareth’s eyes bore into you. All of these questions that he has, but he won’t ask. You won’t tell him until you’re ready anyway. The time comes sooner than later anyway.

“My mom is nice,” were you telling him that, or yourself? “She bakes. Well, she used too.”

Pause.

“My grandma was nice,” you pick your head up at this. “She baked too. She used too.”

Tears threaten to fall down your face, but Gareth catches each one before they ruin your makeup completely. You let Gareth just hold you right then. In the middle of the parking lot like no one else is around because no one matters more to him than you right then.

“She’s been home for three days,” you sniffle, “it doesn’t even feel like she’s really home.”

“Like she’s a ghost,” he traces shapes against your skin.

“Ugh, my makeup,” a silly little thing to worry about right now. But alas, you sit up to fix the mascara threatening to run down your face. “I’m sorry, Gareth.”

“Hey,” he takes your hand in his to draw your attention back to him. Easily, he slots his lips against yours. Once, twice, three times. Wet kisses. “You have nothing to apologize for. If you want to get out of here and just drive - say the word.”

The idea wasn’t bad. Getting out. Feeling the wind in your hair. Going somewhere far away. It wouldn’t work. You would have to come home in the end.

“No,” you breathe across his mouth. “Let’s dance.”

That is what you do. The whole evening. After clearing your eyes, and turning your brain off, you have a really fantastic time with Gareth. You even convince him to take photos with you in the Photo Booth.

A few dances in, and both you and Gareth find a rhythm to dance too. The rhythm might not have been the same one that everyone else was dancing too, but nonetheless you’re having a great time.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” your bladder is getting to the best of you. “Can you get me a glass of punch?”

“Sure,” Gareth could also use a break from the dance floor. He’s moving with two left feet!

The bathroom clears out as you come in. By the time you’ve finished in the stall, the only person left in the room with you is Chrissy Cunningham. The sweetheart you’ve grown to be fond of outside of her massive jerk of a boyfriend.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” she’s powdering her face over the sink. A floral scent wafts around her. She must have just applied a generous amount of perfume. “But, you and Gareth look like you’re having fun.”

Oh, Gareth! Even just saying his name brings your heart to a flutter!

“Uhm,” you can’t help, but break into a grin the size of Texas, “yes! Chrissy, he’s the nicest guy. Not to mention how ridiculously handsome he is.”

“You know what, he does clean up nice,” she plucks at her bangs dangling in front of her face. “Those so-called Freaks are surprising in more ways than one.”

“What?”

“Well, Jason’s waiting for me,” she tells you, “we should totally go on a double date. That way we can catch up!”

Ah, Chrissy. She can never be anywhere alone for too long without Jason. But, maybe the offer isn’t far out there. It could be the start of a truce between the boys.

“I’ll talk to Gareth,” you can promise her that. “Have fun! You look so pretty by the way.”

“You too!”

When you’re done powdering your nose, you find Gareth nursing a cup of punch at an empty table. No one wants to be near the Freaks. Boy, you haven’t realized how tired you are of hearing how badly the boys get picked on around here. They play a fantasy game, and listen to different music so that makes them completely undesirable? That gives this miserable school a reason to outcast them all?

“Hey,” Gareth holds up an extra glass of punch for you, “having fun, tonight?”

“I really am,” you sip the drink.

Gareth taps the table with his pointer finger. There’s something on his mind that he isn’t telling you. You’ve been together for nearly half a year, and his tells are already becoming more obvious to you. He knows this as well as you do.

“I’m really sorry if what I’m about to say is overstepping,” that’s not the best way to begin, “I found a phone, while you were in the bathroom. I booked us a motel room - I booked you a room.”

You must have heard him wrong, “sorry?”

“I know how hard it is to have a family member act like that, but living with her can’t be easy,” he tries to put as delicately as possible. “After you’ve been having so much fun tonight, I thought maybe you could use a break. I can drop you off and pick you up if you want. Or, you can tell me this idea was dumb. Whatever-,”

Stopping Gareth in his everlasting ramble, you reach over and plant a kiss to his lips holding onto the lapel of his suit jacket. His lips soften against yours.

“I love you.”

The words slip off your tongue, as you hold him there. You’re the only two people in the crowded gymnasium. Blush pink lights bounce off of his and your hair.

It’s funny how a single moment can rewrite the history and the time of your relationship. All of those moments he spent arguing with Eddie about why you had to be there at their band practice. You were - you are a complete distraction. Bobbing your head up and down to the music, even though you just hear noise. The times you sit on your porch with your nose in a book. Those are the days he recalls begging with fate for you to even glance up with that cross-eyed stare that could melt him. Even your snarky comments couldn’t stop his heart from beating out of his chest for you.

Gareth couldn’t wait to take a bite of that forbidden fruit that was just out of reach. Out on a branch just a bit too high in the sky. But, here is his with you in his arms. Your words hold the key to validate the same feelings that he’s had for a long time. He’s sorry that he’s taken so long to recognize them.

“I love you too,” he hold either side of your face to kiss you.

This is different than the kisses before. Your heart locks to his. Moving as one, you lose yourself in the moment. Nothing else matters except the two of you. Here.

“Hey!” A chaperone hollers. “You can’t do that here!”

The couple does separate in a fit of laughter. Gareth is wearing your lipstick, as he waves off the teacher for interrupting. You pull his jaw back to face you, so that you can begin wiping at the lipstick across his bottom lip.

“Is it my color?” Gareth jokes.

You snort. “Totally.”

After a brief silence, you speak again;

“Do you want to get out of here?”

-> <-

It’s not the cleanest place ever. The motel that is. Understaffed. Underpaid. The clerk at the front appears exhausted, malnourished and far less concerned than one might be seeing two teenagers with a hotel reservation. That must happen a lot. It’s a small enough town that there are only a handful of motels, and none of them are as glamorous as the ones in the big city.

You toy with a fake potted plant that sheds dust when you tamper with its leaves. That’s one of many pieces that could use a fix. There’s a tear in the couch that’s supposed to warm people into staying here. You wonder what might have happened.

“One key is fine,” Gareth tells the front desk lady.

The woman waddles when she walks. Hiding out behind a desk and standing all day does things to you. When she returns, she has the single key to your very own room.

You’ve only spent time at a motel once or twice in your life. Both times were with your mother years ago. She went into the city for a couple of job interviews that fell through. Back then, it was just another job. She assured you there are always more opportunities waiting, and that was just not the right time.

“Check out is eleven tomorrow,” she drops the key into Gareth’s open palm, “we do charge if you’re late.”

“Thanks,” he replies, “have a good evening.”

Leading you through the front doors of the hotel into the evening air, Gareth gives you the key now. You hold the brassy thing in your palm. The engraving reads ‘201.’ So, you’ll be on the second floor and closer to the front desk office. That’s easy enough.

Gareth comes along with you to make sure the room is alright for you. He’s already ready to rain hellfire if anything isn’t up to your standard. But, it’s unlikely seeing that all you really want is a bit of peace and quiet from the world.

Twisting the key into the lock, you push the door forward. It opened. That’s a start. There’s a switch next to the door, so you’re not fumbling around like a moron in front of your date.

It’s simple. A queen-sized bed with a scratchy top sheet you could flick off if you want. There’s a table with a small chair close to the entrance that they consider a ‘dining nook.’ Also, a fat color television in front of the bed. Completely snug in the back is the bathroom. It’s clean, and free of mold, hair, or bugs.

Coming back around from your inspection, Gareth stands still outside of the hotel room.

“What are you still doing out there?” You hold out your hand. “Aren’t you coming in?”

Gareth wants too. He really does, but he still has his mom’s car. This is your retreat anyway. A night away with some peace and quiet. He doesn’t want to screw that up for you.

“My mom is waiting for me,” he tells you honestly. “I’ll come back in the morning and get you.”

“Gare,” the nickname soothes him. “It’s late. Call your mom and tell her that you’re staying at Eddie’s or something. I’m sure he’ll cover for you.”

Gareth snorts out a laugh. It’s silly how easy you can sway his better judgement. That by him not wanting to ruin your evening comes from more than just ‘he has to get home.’ So, he crosses that threshold into the motel room where you are.

Hot breath crosses your face, “are you sure you want me to stay?”

Your voice comes out at a whisper, “please. Please, stay.”

Gareth closes the room’s front door. The outside world is no longer either of your problems. You’re here with him. That’s all that matters.

You spring onto the bed next to him, after using one of the hotel’s wet wipes to rid yourself of your makeup as best you can. There’s a silly little hand lotion that will make up for any of your real lotions back at home. This could have been better thought out. Neither of you have a change of clothes.

“I’ll be home in the morning, mom,” Gareth speaks into the telephone sat on the bedside table. Taking your advice, he fibs that he’s exhausted from dancing all night and will just stay at Eddie’s trailer. “I love you too.”

“I wish my mom was as concerned about me,” you’re half joking when Gareth does hang up the phone, after his mom is done yapping his ear off about the evening. “Do you think she would even answer the phone if I called?”

Gareth unties his tie, and allows a bit of laughter to leak through. You’re taking this very well. So, it can’t be new - your mom’s behavior.

“Gare,” you lean into him, “could you tell me about her? Your grandma that is.”

Oh. Gareth doesn’t have a clear memory of her, before the day he really came to life with full thoughts and full feelings. This is his mother’s mother. She died a few years ago. One morning she got as intoxicated as she could, then left for the store for more beer in the middle of the night during the winter. She found a park bench to sleep on, and never woke up. The doctors said it was the weather that got her.

“I’d have to ask my mom,” he presses a kiss to your forehead as he sinks deeper into the mattress with you. “I think she really liked her. My mom turned out fine, you know. You will too.”

“Thank you,” you mutter into his chest.

For a moment, you lay there. Your breathing is slow. The rise and fall of your chest makes Gareth aware how exhausted you must be after these past few days. However, in the midst of Gareth trying to decipher how he could sleep sitting up straight, your eyes pull open.

“Gare,” you only sit up enough to brush your nose against his. His response is a hum, “kiss me.”

Gareth doesn’t need to be asked twice. Hot lips bathed in that sweetened fruit punch from earlier meet yours. You find your breath is just as shaky as his, and you brush your nose into his as you swing your leg across him settling yourself onto his lap.

Pushing away at the sleeves of Gareth’s jacket, he follows your lead. He would follow you anywhere. You put your hands at the buttons of his shirt, and Gareth’s heart begins to slam against his rib cage. He figures you want him to place his hands somewhere, but he’s a bundle of nerves just waiting to burst.

Placing your palm across his heart, Gareth covers your wrist with his hand and using his thumb he’s counting the number of beats in your heartbeat. It’s just like his.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want too,” there is a note of vulnerability in his tone.

You stop there a moment. Hand still across his chest. His heart beating ever so quickly. You love the soul that carries on next to this heart. The young man willing to give you the world if he could. You’re terrified of love. When love will run as far away from you as he can because you’re too much.

Gareth searches for something deep in your eyes. That you will finally allow yourself to be completely happy. You deserve this. To be truly happy.

There’s a spark in your eye. Your lids droop halfway across your iris.

“We don’t have to do anything you want too,” you say with your lips dangling in front of him.

Gareth meets your eye line, “I want too.”

“Me too.”

-> <-

[to be continued]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @jesuisbuginette @starrywhitenight @meetmeatyourworst @munsonburn3r @5tud10-54r4h @pvdulmol @loveryanax @am0iur @naatggeo @chaoticgood-munson

[vampsquerade]

May I request König with fem! Reader who has anxiety and insomnia? (She sometimes stay late, but tries to keep a good hygiene.)

I relate to him a lot since he was bullied to and apparently has anxiety as well :( </3

Thank you in advance ❤️

hi anon, of course i can! thank you for requesting, i appreciate it so much :,) and same dude i was bullied too so i understand how it can be a little easy to relate to him 💕 sorry you experienced that, you didn’t and nobody else deserves to go through that.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

König x Female!Reader: Inner and Outer Strifes

Trigger Warnings: hurt/comfort, mentions of: past trauma, bullying, physical altercations; insomnia, anxiety, self destructive tendencies, self-doubt, relationship insecurities

Having someone who actually understood what it was like to go through anxiety attacks, whether they be in regards to social or emotional, made it all the better to get through with life. König always made sure to take care of you, as you would do the same for him. He pampered you, treating you so nicely as he eased you out of those intrusive thoughts that kept you trapped in your own head. The feelings of eyes staring at you, watching your every move always waned off whenever König comforted you. He would also do whatever he could to get you to go to bed, as you suffered from chronic insomnia as a result of your anxiety.

König would use himself as a form of weight for comforting pressure on you sometimes, wanting you to feel safe with him. Tonight was one of those nights where you struggled to sleep, no matter what König tried. “Meine liebe…how about we go and try a nice, warm bath, hm?” König asks as he strokes your cheek gently with the back of his hand. You sigh deeply before nodding your head. “Yeah, maybe that’ll help me this time around,” you say in a slightly hoarse and somewhat defeated tone of voice. König frowned, seeing how frustrated you were at your lack of being able to fall asleep at all.

He lifted you up carefully, taking you to the bathroom and sitting you down on the sink’s counter. You stare at König almost blankly as he turns the water on, watching his large and scarred hand moving under the water just to feel it get warm. You could see the tenderness in his eyes, and a slightly bitter smile seems to form on your face. Your eyes are filled with a sharp and indignant gaze, as if feeling wronged for the unfairness of your own thoughts. Part of you wants to just flat out ask the question that runs through your head over and over to talk about it, and another one fights and restrains that thought immensely.

You’d gone through just as much as he did as a kid, dealing with being bullied by your peers at every waking moment you sat down in those little seats. No matter what you did, they wouldn’t leave you alone; it’s where that sensation that thousands of eyes were watching you came from. It was an awful feeling because no matter how close someone got to you, it would create a barrier between you and the person you’ve come close to. The fact that you were doing this with König despite already having dated for a few months made you feel like shit.

So you popped the question.

“Do you actually enjoy doing this? Taking care of me every waking moment you’re here?” The way you phrase it seems to take the Austrian by surprise. He never expected you to ask him something so loaded. König’s head immediately whips to you, and he looks at you with his soft, blue eyes in disbelief. His own anxiety seems to spike slightly, and he stands up from his knees next to the bathtub as he lets it fill with water. “Of course I do. You and I come from similar walks of life—you’ve understood me far better than anyone else had,” he says softly. His large hand comes up to grab yours, fingers intertwining within your own.

König’s eyes shone in the light within the bathroom, but the gaze in his eyes showed a profound sadness. He would silently bring your hand up to his chest, pressing your now open palm against it. The sensation of his heart thumping hard in his chest as it rose and fell, and you can hear the Colonel give a hesitant chuckle. “Please…let me understand and love you as you have me…let me help teach you how to take better care of yourself and manage your anxieties…you know that I’m here for you, and that I would do anything for you…” König continues to speak, his voice growing ever softer.

In your head, remnants of you still continued to think this way and all you could do was blame it on those inner thoughts that never stopped. But from how adamant König was becoming, how he grew anxious at the thought of you doubting his love for you. “Meine liebe,” he begins, standing in front of you and holding you close to his chest. “Love comes without conditions…love is all about caring for one another without acting like it’s a burden,” he continues in a much gentler tone. He could see the doubt still lingering in your gaze, causing him to become a little more anxious that you couldn’t believe him.

“I promise you that I don’t mind taking care of you,” König continues to tell you, “I will do so until my dying days. Just to make sure you don’t ever end up alone ever again.” You look at the hulking man once more, staring at the way he gently moved himself to embrace you tightly. Instinctively, your arms and legs wrapped around him to comfort yourself more. “I’m sorry for doubting you,” you apologize, nuzzling your face into König’s chest and inhaling deeply. His natural musk was something you loved more than anything and it was the one thing that helped keep you calm.

He chuckles softly, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips before gently helping to undress you. “Now let’s get you that nice bath and we can try to get you to go to bed,” König says with a tender tone of affection in his voice. He then lifts you carefully and sets you down in the warm water, allowing for you to take in the comforting aromas of the soaps you were using. Your eyes close as König takes this as the chance to massage your back, whispering reassurances and affirmations into your ears. They sounded like the ones he normally used to keep himself calm in certain scenarios…it made you feel special.

After a few minutes of König rubbing your spine and shoulders, cleaning you up, he drains the water and gently starts to clean any excess soap off you with new water. He goes to grab a towel and warms it up for a minute, leaving you there with your thoughts again. Your anxieties and potential insecurities about your relationship and how much König takes care of you rear their ugly heads, but from how loving and gentle he was with you, they slowly dissipate. You look up and see him there, a smile on his face.

“Here, my love…let me lift you up…” The Colonel says as he wraps the towel around you. Its warmth against your body makes you so happy, filling you with a sense of safety as his massive arms wrap around you. König gently begins to dry you off after sitting you down on the sink’s counter again, doing so in such a slow manner that it felt so romantic. You couldn’t help but smile and reach your arms out to hold onto his face. König looks up at you, a bit confused, before his eyes go wide.

“Mmh-” He hums briefly, closing his eyes slowly and allowing you to kiss him. The way König wrapped his arms around you again now that you were dry was actually making you feel tired. You pull back just to cover your mouth as you yawn, making the Colonel smile and chuckle at you. “Feeling tired now, aren’t you? I won’t keep you awake for much longer…” König mumbles against your lips, leaning in for one more kiss after pushing your hand down.

The Austrian dresses you once more in newer, more comfortable sleeping clothes, and carries you back to your shared room. He turns the lights off and pulls the curtains shut after closing the door, having laid you back down on the bed prior to any of this. König finds himself cuddling up to you and putting his hands back onto your body.

The gentle squeeze as he began to rub your back up and down as a way to get you to sleep seems to do it’s trick.

Your eyes are shutting…

Breathing is slowing…

And your muscles are relaxing…

“I love you,” falls from your lips wearily as you hide your face into König’s comfortable chest. “I love you too, my love. Get some sleep,” he mumbles in a much softer and soothing tone. You finally seem to fall asleep after trying for so long and the Colonel follows suit once he makes sure you’ree completely asleep. Safe and protected right in his arms…

[yunhonumeris1fane]

 Babysitting•JYH/OT8

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“You only wanted to hang out with your boyfriend, but instead you end up babysitting your 6 friends, who are completely wasted”

genre - fluff

pairings - bff_ateez x reader, bf_yunho x reader

warnings - alcohol consumption

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Your last class just ended, so here you are, heading over to the boys' dorm. The previous day, Yuhno asked you to come over tomorrow and you gladly accepted his offer. But the message 'don't come today' he just sent you, leaves you dumbfounded. You asked him why, but he hasn’t replied yet, so feeling like there is something going on, you decide to see it for yourself.

 Seconds after ringing the bell, you are greeted by a disappointed Yunho.

"Baby, I told you not to come over tonight" He pouts, peeking his head through the door gap, hiding something behind the door.

"Why?" You frown, as you find his odd behavior strange.

"It's for your own good. Everyone except me and Hoonjoong are drunk as hell. Especially San, Mingi and Woo" He explains the situation as you laugh at him. There's no way it is that bad.

"EEH, WHO'S THERE! Whoo are y-you talking to!" You hear San's voice coming from inside. Oh no

"No one!" Yunho attempts to hide you, but he's too late as San swings the door open, revealing your presence.

"Y/n!!" Blushed from the alcohol, he greets you excitedly and runs over to you to hug you. You're taken aback, as he looks absolutely wasted. 

"Mhmbrhlmmm '' He murmurs something, as you exchange looks with Yunho, who only lets out a loud sigh, waiting for a catastrophe.

"San", you try to get him off of you, but he doesn't listen, "San please let me go"

"Nmnomnomn…n-noo" He mumbles, refusing to oblige. You hopelessly glance at your boyfriend, who gives you a 'told you so' look, before trying to tear him off of you, as he's stuck to you like glue.

"Yah! C'mon San, you can hug her later?" Yunho tries to persuade San and he finally releases you with a sad "okay", before wandering back to the living room.

 As you step into the apartament, it's in a chaotic state. Loud music, accompanied by Jongho hitting high notes and the rest singing along. Loads of trash all over the living room, including soju bottles. You look over at the guys, sat around the coffee table in the living room and meet Hoongjoong's eyes asking for help. He's squished in between Wooyoung and Mingi, who are singing and swaying to music from side to side. 

"Y/N AYYY, COME HANG OUT WITH US!" Mingi energetically gestures to you, so you look over at Yunho for approval, but he only shakes his head.

"I don't want to be a babysitter, I'll better join them" You're about to join them, but Yunho instantly grabs you by your hand.

"Please no, don't go, don't leave us!" He pleads, not letting go of your hand, 

"DON'T LISTEN TO HIM Y/N!" Wooyoung yells out, giving Yunho a death glare.

"pretty please. Help us!" Yunho begs, looking at you with puppy eyes and almost convincing you. But before making a final decision, you turn to Hoongjoong, who nods repeatedly, looking like a scared hamster.

"Urgh fine" you let out a groan, as Yunho releases your hand and smiles happily.

"Guys, I need you to hand Hoongjoong over to me " you demand for the guys to free him, but they're not having it.

"No" Wooyoung pouts, locking his arms around him. 

"I'm leaving then" you shrug and pretend like you're leaving, Yuhno plays along, "Oh no, don't leave!", as he acts hurt by your decision.

"NOOooOo!!" San turns to you in a millisecond and starts whining loudly. Everyone gets triggered by San's noisiness, so Wooyoung and Mingi release the captive and Hoongjoong quickly runs over to you and Yunho, almost tripping over a bottle left on the ground.

"You're my savior" He gives a quick hug of gratitude and a side eyes the group, "I felt like I was going to die there. Wooyoung was screaming into my ear. Then Mingi was constantly pulling onto my arm. And San kept trying to kiss me on the cheek"

 You let out a heartful laugh, listening to Hoongjoongs complaints. Poor guy can't get any rest. Always in the middle of chaos.

"Why didn't you join them?" You inquire about your boyfriend, who's as sober as he could ever be.

"I didn't feel like drinking. I wanted to game, but Mingi and San dragged me out of my room, like literally dragged me out" He whines, annoyed with how the situation played out.

"Damn. What do we do then?" You rub your palms together, ready for action.

"If you try to do anything, you'll end up like me" Hoongjoong warns you, "but if you don't do anything, you might end up like me" Yuhno adds as you begin feeling like you should have stayed home.

"Mister, you should have explained to me, instead of just saying 'don't come'. Now I'm stuck in here with no way out"

"I was going to, but I couldn't even hit the send button, cause that was exactly when I was dragged out against my will" Yunho explains as you voice out an "oh". This is not looking good. You should run now and leave them to deal with the guys. But you can't, your heart quite literally breaks seeing the guys looking so sulky and tired.

"I'll go to the bathroom to cry, see you later" Hoongjoong informs and disappears from your vision

 You wrap your arms around Yunho's waist, pulling him into a comforting hug, as he hides his face in the crook of your neck.

 "It's okay. A few more hours and they'll be sleeping like they're knocked out" You console him, "we should tidy up the room. You deal with trash, I'll get their attention, so they don't harass you" you suggest as he nods and you make your way over to the gathering.

 "Y/n you're joining us? Finally!" Seonghwa exclaims, pouring you a shot. 

"I-I… no-" you're unable to finish your sentence as you're already handed a full shot glass, "eh, one glass won't hurt" you take it and gulp it down.

 "Y/n you scared m-me, I- thought you were going to betray us and hang out with those losers" Mingi admits, his speech slightly slurred. 

"Hah, look at him!" Wooyoung points at Yunho, who's picking up the empty bottles, putting them away in a trash bag, "he chose to be sober and clean up our mess instead of hanging out with us" he laughs at Yunho, as you get annoyed with him and picking up a cheeseball, throw it at Wooyoung, hitting him in the face. Everyone laughs, except him.

"Oww, why did you do that?" He scrunches his face, caressing his forehead, where he was just hit.

"Don't badmouth Yunho, or I'll throw this at you next time" You warn him, pointing at the sliced pork belly for the Bossam dish and he instantly shuts his mouth.

"Here drink it up" Seonghwa brings another full shot up to your lips, spilling it slightly on your clothes.

"I'll do it myself!" You carefully take it from his hands, "later, I haven't eaten much yet" You try to come up with an excuse, which he believes, too much so that he begins making you a bossam wrap.

 You take a closer look at each of the guys, to determine an approximate time they'd black out. Jongho is either in stage one or stage five, you can't tell, as looks unbothered, searching for another song on tv to slay. Yeosang, sitting beside him, is in a stage called coma. He looks like he's already sleeping, as his mouth is wide open and eyes glued shut. Mingi is in stage four together with Wooyoung, as they're arguing over who's going to get the last piece of cheesecake. Plot twist - There's no cheesecake. Seonghwa is in stage two or three, you also can't tell. He is just doing whatever he wants and thinks is necessary, like, "Bzzz", he pretends like the bossam pouch he just made is a plane, flying into your mouth, "Say ah!", he stuffs the pouch into your mouth, as you almost choke on it. 

 Then there's San, he's close to Yeosang's stage, looking around clueless, unable to catch on what's happening around him. He crawls over to you and lays his head down on your lap.

"Mmhmm, so comfy" he smiles to himself and continues babbling like a child. 

 They look like a big mess, but you still feel like Yunho and Hoongjoong overreacted. There's no way it was or is that bad. At least you think so until Jongho suddenly blasts a song on a high volume, followed by a loud "Aaah", scaring the hell out of you and waking up San, who was about to drift off to sleep.

"Lower the volume and your voice" You nudge Jongho, but he doesn't react and continues singing. So you go with a plan b and shut him up with your hand. But it doesn't go as planned as he bites your palm, making you retract your hand instantly. Feeling like giving up, you move San off of you, instructing him to rest on Seonghwa's lap instead and he does. Then you lift yourself off the floor and go help Yunho and Hoongjoong to clean the living room. When you're done, Hoongjoong and Yunho look around and then quietly tippy toe to Yuhno's room.

 Whilst you stay in the living room, inspecting the group once again. Now there's two down, four more to go. You suspect that Mingi is next, as he's talking with his eyes closed and barely saying any actual words. Seeing an opportunity to get out, you sprint to Yunho's room, where he's already playing games on his computer. Hoongjoong on the other hand is laying on his belly, "wake me up when the party's over" with that he closes his eyes shut.

 You approach your boyfriend from behind and rest your hands on his shoulders, massaging gently, "You should get some sleep too, I'll take care of them"

 "Impossible. How will you get them to their rooms, they're like twice your size" Yunho laughs at your words, knowing for sure how difficult they can get

 "I'll drag them by their legs if I need to" you shrug, making him burst out of laughter, as Hoongjoong shuffles in the bed, slowly opening his eyes.

"Are they out?" he mumbles, voice raspy from a 5 minute sleeping session.

"No, close your eyes" you tell him and he goes back to sleep once again.

 You stay by Yunho's side, watching him showing off how good of a gamer he is, until a sound comes from the living room, like an asteroid that just hit the ground, shaking the whole floor.

 Yunho immediately takes off his headset and stands up, "what was that?" His eyes wide open as he follows you to the living room, where you're greeted by Mingi kissing the floor, in between the coffee table and the couch.

"Mind explaining what happened?" You inquire about the situation as Yunho walks over to Mingi, to check if he's still alive.

"He was standing on the couch, was dancing and then wanted to get off, instead he tripped and fell" Seonghwa mumbles, completely unphased by the chaos.

 "He's alive" Yunho informs, glancing over at Mingi, who seems like he's out.

 "Should we end the gathering here?" You turn to the remaining 3 members, who don't seem to agree and keep on talking to each other, "okay". They look like they're on the verge of passing out. Jongho's not singing anymore, Wooyoung is staring at his own reflection on the black tv screen, Seonghwa is for sure fighting the urge to black out, San is still sleeping soundly on his lap, Yeonsang is now sprawled on the sofa and Mingi's passed out on the floor. 

 You manage to turn your head away for one second and Seongwa's out, face planting the table.

"It's between you and me now boi" Wooyoung intensely glares at Jongho, "I'll be the last to black out"

"You know what, let's get the fallen guys back to their rooms and leave Woo and John here for now" You suggest as Yunho agrees and goes to wake up Hoongjoong.

"Let's start from Yeosang" Hoongjoong decides and Yunho volunteers to take him, since his room is right in front of the living room. You and Hoongjoong take San, but just as you try to lift him up, he wakes up and starts babbling, refusing to be taken away.

"Everyone's going to sleep, you too" Hoongjoong talks to him as you take San by his right arm and Hoongjoong takes him by the left one. You lift him off the floor and walk him out of the apartament. Yunho, at the same time, wakes Yeosang up, gets him on his back and heads to the room, to put him to bed.

 When you successfully get San to his room, you lift the covers off his bed, as Hoongjoong puts him to bed with a little struggle, before tucking him in and heading back.

 "Wooyoung's down" Yunho points at the man sleeping on the couch, as Jongho's giggling at him, happy to be the winner.

 "I'll go by myself, no need-" Jongho almost loses his balance while standing up, "-no need for help" and with a smile he stomps his way back to his room

 "I'll check up on him later, you two take Mingi, I'll take Wooyoung", Hoongjoong approaches him and gently shakes his shoulder to wake him up. You and Yuhno attempt to lift Mingi off the floor, but can't, so you go with a plan b. You take him by his legs, as Yunho takes him by his arms. On three you lift him and carry him to his room.

"How do we open the door?" You question Yunho, as you stand at the door, struggling to keep Mingi off the floor. Fortunately, Hoongjoong steps in to lend you a hand.

"Let's keep Seonghwa and Wooyoung on the sofa, Wooyoung was very unhappy with me waking him up" Hoongjoong suggests, as he opens the door and lets you in. When Mingi's in his bed, you go to Seonghwa's room to fetch his blanket and pillow as Hoongjoong takes Wooyoung's from his room. When you come back, you slide a pillow under each of their heads and cover them with blankets, “Finally, some peace” you let out a sigh of relief.

"I'm out, goodnight!" Hoongjoong immediately leaves as you drop to the floor out of exhaustion.

"You wanna stay over for tonight, It's really late" Yunho joins you on the floor, checking his phone.

"Wouldn't even think of going home" you rest your head on his shoulder, on a verge to fall asleep, "I'm never having kids" you admit as Yunho lets out a breathy laugh, "same"

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[nanamineedstherapy]

Send Gojo? No. Send Nanami? Also No, But Less No.

Tsukumo Yuki x F!Reader x Ieiri Shoko - Pre-established but Nanami Kento & Gojo Satoru are also here.

Summary: In which Nanami gets emotionally & physically taxed, Gojo should never be left unsupervised, & Shoko, Yuki, & you hold an unholy amount of power over them both. or What if you, Shoko & Yuki, are in a poly relationship & somehow all your cycles sync? How much are we torturing Nanami???

A/N: This fic is a result of me staring at the ceiling at 3 AM, thinking, “What if You, Shoko & Yuki were in a polyship and had synced periods, but it’s a high-stakes psychological horror for Nanami?” Also, Gojo is a fool, Nanami deserves hazard pay, & Shoko & Yuki are the backbone of society. Anyway, enjoy this brainrot. WC: 1,165 Pure crack so no trigger warnings needed.

The night begins like all disasters do: quietly.

It starts innocently enough—Shoko's apartment at midnight, the air tense.

You’re horizontal on her couch, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, clutching a hot water bottle to your stomach like it might perform a miracle. Yuki’s raiding the kitchen, muttering curses at an empty bag of chips, while Shoko nurses a lukewarm beer and an ice pack balanced on her head.

You’ve achieved the mythical synchronicity of an unholy trinity of cramps and PMS-fueled rage, and it’s terrifying.

It’s that kind of night.

“I swear I bought pads last week,” Yuki mutters, emerging from the kitchen with a singular, stale granola bar. “How the hell are we out of everything?”

Shoko shrugs. “You’ve been stress-eating chips like it’s an Olympic sport.”

Before Yuki can throw the granola bar at her, your phone buzzes.

“It’s Nanami,” you say, reading the text. Don’t call me tonight. I am already in bed.

“Oh, hell no.” Yuki grabs your phone and speed-dials him.

Nanami picks up on the third ring, voice groggy. “No.”

“Yes,” Yuki replies. “We’re dying. We’re out of pads, tampons, snacks, and basically everything else. If you don’t come, I will personally end you.”

A pause. Then, with the resignation of a man who knows he’s lost, he says, “Fine. Text me a list.”

Gojo, lying upside down on the carpet with his legs propped up on the coffee table, perks up immediately. “I can go!”

“No!” all three of you chorus.

1:00 AM

Nanami shows up, a grocery bag in hand, looking like the last shred of his will to live is dangling by a thread. He tosses it onto the counter and starts to leave when Yuki, halfway through a chocolate bar, asks, “Where’s the ice cream?”

Nanami freezes. Slowly, he turns around. “The what?”

“I specifically texted you about the caramel swirl.” Shoko says with narrowed eyes, beer bottle in hand, ready to weaponize it.

“Yeah,” you pipe up from under your blanket fort. “And I wanted mochi.”

Nanami takes a slow, deep breath. Then stares at all three of you, eyes hollow. “I’m going home; send Gojo.”

“Oh, I’d love to!” Gojo says brightly, halfway out the door before Shoko grabs him by the back of his collar.

“You can’t,” Yuki snaps. “Gojo will get it wrong.”

“Hey!” Gojo protests. “That’s not fair. I’ve gotten better!”

“No, you’re going to mess this up,” she snaps. “Remember what happened last time?”

Gojo pouts. “I didn’t know there were different kinds of tampons! I thought wings were for decoration!”

“You also brought back clove-scented tampons and one fun-size bag of Skittles. My vagina has PTSD because of you.” You add helpfully from under your blanket pyramid.

“Don’t remind me, he also almost got throttled in the parking lot,” Shoko pointed out.

“Yeah, by you,” Gojo retorts.

“Yeah, and I stand by that decision,” Shoko says.

“Good,” Yuki deadpans. “I will finish the job.”

Nanami is smart, so he sighes, grabs his keys and leaves. A few minutes later, he returns, arms loaded with supplies and a few extra snacks.

And because he is smart—he knows better than to face the wrath of three PMSing women. He drops the bag on your doorstep, rings the bell, and sprints away like he’s just defused a bomb, leaving you all to wonder if he’ll ever come back for a rematch!

2:00 AM

Against everyone’s better judgment, Gojo insists on “helping.”

“I read somewhere that massages help!” he chirps, already cracking his knuckles.

“No,” Yuki interrupts.

“Hard no,” Shoko echoes.

You sigh. “Fine. Just don’t be weird about it.”

Gojo beams, settling behind you. “You just need to relax,” he says, cracking his knuckles. “I saw this thing on TikTok—”

You eye him suspiciously.

Yuki glares at him, now a little too close to your couch. “If you try anything funny with my wife, I will kill you.”

“And I will revive you just so I can kill you again.” Shoko adds popping a nicotine gum in her mouth and chewing aggressively.

He waves a dismissive hand. “Pfft, no trust. Just relax!”

Gojo, it turns out, has the subtlety of a jackhammer. Five seconds in, you let out a yelp as his bony hands jab into your back like he’s searching for treasure.

“That’s her kidney!” Yuki shouts, grabbing him by the collar.

“It’s all connected!” Gojo whines, flailing as Yuki drags him away.

“Connected to your impending death, maybe,” she growls.

3:00 AM

Nanami gets called again.

This time, it’s because Gojo—unsupervised—tried to boil water for tea and somehow set the kettle on fire.

“How,” Nanami begins when he arrives, staring at the blackened kettle in the sink, “did this happen?”

“I was just trying to help!” Gojo protests, dodging a cushion thrown by Shoko.

“Tell him the real reason or I’m shaving your head!” You yell, spraying pain relief medication on your back.

Gojo holds his hair and mutters lowly. “I got distracted. Someone called me a ‘red flag with 20/20 vision,’ on Tiktok, and honestly, they’re not wrong.”

Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is why I don’t let you cook.”

“That, and I’m amazing at takeout,” Gojo quips, tossing Nanami finger guns.

Shoko leans against the counter, watching the exchange with mild amusement. “Are you two done flirting, or are we actually eating tonight?”

Nanami froze, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “We’re not—”

“Oh, please,” Yuki interrupts. “We’ve all seen the way you look at each other. Just kiss already.”

Gojo just shamelessly grins. “He’s shy.”

Nanami turns around to hide his burning ears and pulls up his hoodie sleeves and starts 3 A.M. dinner. He wonders, how did none of you in a polycule of three know how to cook? Or did you all lied to him and hoped for the best? Then he looks at Gojo—still somehow grinning—and decides he deserves hazard pay for this.

5:00 A.M.

The couch is now a war zone of blankets, empty bowls, and collective exhaustion.

Gojo has decided to make his final bid for redemption. “I’ll clean up,” he offers, sweeping his lanky arms toward the mess.

“Don’t touch anything,” Nanami says immediately.

“Wow, no trust,” Gojo complains, pouting.

“You set water on fire,” Shoko deadpans.

“You bruised my kidney,” you add.

“And you can’t even bring the right pad,” Yuki finishes.

Gojo throws up his hands in defeat. “You’re all mean.”

Nanami sighs, sinking into the armchair with the air of a man who knows this is his life now.

6:00 A.M.

By morning, Gojo is banned from the kitchen, Nanami is seriously contemplating resignation, and you’re all sprawled across the couch, eating ice cream directly out of the tub.

“This was a nightmare,” Yuki mutters, glaring at Gojo, who’s still trying to apologize.

Shoko just sips her beer. “Same time next month?”

Nanami groans.

Gojo beams.

A/N: Nanami survived, but at what cost? Gojo did NOT, in fact, redeem himself. Shoko & Yuki remain undefeated. Will they make it to next month without setting another household appliance on fire? Stay tuned.

Vote wisely. Or don’t. Chaos reigns.

All Works Masterlist

[burrowbabe]

Give and Take - Chapter 10

Hello hello ;) I got bored and decided to write the next chapter tonight! (not thoroughly proofread)

** trigger warning

Intense smut ... absolute filth. Inspired by 'Can I' by Kehlani.

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It was becoming increasingly difficult to take things slow with Joe. Every glance, every sly smirk and every secret kiss made you want to jump his bones. And you almost never got alone time to take things further, even if you wanted to.

Playing with yourself when thoughts of his naked body over came you, could only do so much. You needed real release. 

Tana's birthday was coming up, and while you had every intention of making her day special, you couldn't help but selfishly look forward to the trip to Las Vegas you all would be taking in honor of the occasion. That meant, private hotel rooms.

You booked the penthouse suite at Ceaser's Palace for your friends, and a separate room on another floor for yourself claiming there wouldn't be enough room to sleep everyone comfortably. 

"You prude! No one will be getting any sleep this weekend if I have anything to say about it." Tana exclaimed, sitting on her overly full luggage to zip it closed.

"You do what you want, but I need my beauty rest." You quip, pretending to throw your hair over your shoulder.

With an annoyed eye roll, Tana joins the rest of the crew outside to load up the car.

You resume gathering the last of your things before making your way down the hall. Before making it to the top of the stairs, a hand grabs your elbow, pulling you to the side of the dimly lit hall. Joe looks down at you with a small smile before pulling you in for a kiss.

With a sigh, you melt into his body, dropping your bag and wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Do you really think we're going to be able to sneak away this weekend?" Joe asks, biting his lip.

"I hope so .. we deserve some proper alone time." You smirk.

"Oh yeah? What does that entail?"

"Hmm ... I'm thinking room service, fuzzy robes, champagne ..." You raise your eyebrows and look at him with sultry eyes.

"I like the sound of that." He replies, leaning down to the crook of your neck to inhale your perfume before landing a kiss right under your ear.

You're interrupted once again by a holler from your brother in the distance.

"We're gonna miss the flight!" He yells.

Disappointedly, you and Joe are broken out of each other's embrace and quickly make your way down to the garage.

Everyone had already claimed their seats in the large SUV, leaving only 2 open spots in the very back of the vehicle. Joe's size made it difficult to clammer into the last row, not without Ja'Marr razzing him. You didn't mind the close proximity though, you're able to clasp Joe's hand for the whole ride without any of the others noticing.

-----------

After a quick, booze filled trip on the private jet you had chartered, everyone was ready to throw their things down in their respective rooms, and get ready for the night ahead of them. 

Joe had claimed he got his own room as well as he would need to "hit the gym in the morning and maybe call it an early night", to which resulted in merciless teasing. You couldn't help but stifle your own laugh when he broke this news, learning that he is a terrible liar.

"Football is over man! You gotta cut loose." Ja'Marr clapped him on his back giving him a look in disbelief.

"We don't win championships with that attitude." He slyly remarked, earning a groan from his best friend.

"OK Sheisty ... wouldn't want to throw you off your 8 p.m. bedtime." Ja'Marr rolls his eyes in good fun but finally dropping the subject to Joe's relief.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach knowing you'd have all his attention tonight.

Touching up your smokey eye in the mirror, you heard a knock at your door. Assuming it was one of your friend summoning you for the dinner reservations you had made, you quickly grabbed your purse and threw on your short black heels.

"Coming!" You call out, trotting over to swing open the door to meet Joe's shocked expression. His eyes roamed your whole body. Your micro skirt showed off your perfectly tanned legs, while your black lace top exentuated your full chest.

"I - you ... I was just ..." He was lost for words.

"Just come here." You say, pulling him in for a glossy kiss.

"God, you're gonna kill me having to look at you all night." He sighed, moving his hand down your waist.

"You'll just have to wait." You smirk and pat the side of his cheek. "We're gonna be late"

You strut off towards the elevator, with him chasing after you like a puppy. 

The rest of your friends were waiting in the lobby roaring with laughter.

"Holy shit!" Tana interrupts the conversation she was having with Nick when her eyes land on you. "Now that's what I'm talking about! You'll have guys falling from trees for you looking like that!"

You couldn't help the blush that crept up your cheeks. She was the most blunt person you had ever known but she never failed to hype you up.

"I think you need a jacket." Your brother complains, earning an eyeroll from you.

"Enough about me! It's your weekend." You wave Tana off and the crew moves for the car to drive you all to the restaurant.

After running up a handsome bill at the most expensive restaurant on the strip, gambling was next on the agenda. You hated the thought of throwing money away, especially with high stakes. So you sat yourself at the penny slots and went to town. You kept looking around to make sure you kept tabs on your group, always making eye contact with Joe who was sat at the blackjack table with the others. 

He gives you a sublte motion with his two middle fingers to come over to the table. The motion alone sending a jolt to your nether regions. You cash out quickly, earning a mere $10, before making your way over to Joe. 

"I'm rich!" You wave your winning ticket in front of his face.

"Look at you, high roller." He laughs. Unknowingly you snake your arm around his shoulder, leaning into him, giggling. Ja'Marr makes a confused face making you stiffen and straighten up, stepping away from Joe.

"Sorry, I get touchy-feely when I'm drunk." You joke, trying to back pedal, awkwardly making eye contact with Ja'Marr again. A blush creeps up on your cheeks and you throw back the rest of your drink to distract yourself from the budding tension.

"This is boring, lets hit the club!" Tana says, breaking the silence - thank God.

"I second that. I need me some phone numbers." AJ shimmies his eyebrows suggestively.

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. Surely you were more nervous than you needed to be. 

You needed another drink, and ASAP.

The club was loud and busy. Sweaty bodies grinding all over each other as house music shook the floor. AJ flagged down a bottle service waitress and arranged a VIP section for all of you in the corner of the room.

It seemed like every round you all ordered, required a toast to Tana's birthday. Each proclaimation more outrageous and hilarious than the next. Each tequila soda was going down like water. Every glance in Joe's direction more sexually charged. The world was starting to disappear around you.

"I need to dance!" You announce, but fallen on deaf ears as everyone was engrossed in their own conversations.

You manage to get into a standing position and stumble slightly into the crowd of people. You didn't care, you swayed your body to the music. Closing your eyes and running your hands through your hair, you felt invincible. 

Some flashes indicated fans taking photos of you, but you didn't care about that either, you were having a blast. 

A pair of hands snake around your waist, pulling you into a tent in their pants. You allow them to move with you to the beat.

"You're so fucking sexy." The man shouts in your ear with his hot breath. You look up to see its a total stranger towering over you, and not the man you wanted it to be.

Suddenly, a hand clasps over yours, pulling you away from the stranger and down the hall towards the bathrooms. You're pushed into the wall, meeting Joe's eyes that have darkened. His cheeks are flushed slightly from the alcohol and his lips are plump from biting down on them.

"Are you OK?" He asks, searching your face for any type of concern.

"I'm better now." You say, sliding your hands up his abdomen.

"You drive me crazy you know that?" 

Joe pulls you close and smashes his lips to yours, moving desperately against you.

"Let's go home." You huff in between kisses.

You follow Joe's lead as he pulls you through the crowd of people, expertly avoiding your table full of friends.

Your panties are absolutley soaked and you're both practically running to the exit to get the next cab to the hotel. 

The ride back is silent but so sexually charged, it was palpable.

It took major restraint and self-control to keep from doing it right there in the car or even the elevator up to the room.

Bursting through the door and locking it behind you, you pounce on Joe. Backing up towards the bed before the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, making him fall flat on his back.

Finally making contact with Joe's soft lips again made a shiver run down your spine - so wet, so plump, so right.

Moving in sync with one another, your lips stay attached, only breaking slightly to introduce your tongues. 

Joe groans at the taste of sweet liquor on your mouth, pulling your hips closer so you collapse into his lap, straddling him on your bed.

Running your hands through his soft blonde hair, you sigh in relief at the contact he makes with your ass, grasping it in his big hands. Pulling you closer to the bulge in his pants, your pussy grinds against him offering you at least some relief.

Joe pulls back slightly to quickly grab the hem of your shirt to take it off, exposing your black lace covered breasts. Before diving in to kiss your neck, you push his shoulders back to get off of his lap. A look of panic washes over his face, thinking you were changing your mind. But that was far from true. Wasting no time, you spread his knees apart, kneeling down in between them.

With a sigh of relief and a groan accompanying it, Joe watches you work on his zipper, pulling down his grey jeans. A tent in his boxers was an understatement. The outline of his hard cock looked bigger than you ever imagined. Looking up at him through your eyelashes, you hook your fingers under the band of his boxers, slowly pulling them off to be thrown in the pile with his jeans. His cock springs up in front of your eyes, making your jaw drop slightly.

"Fuck." You mutter, eyeing his member standing at attention. Taking your hand, you wrap it around the bottom of his shaft, looking to meet his eyes again to see his pleased reaction. His tip leaked with pre cum, which you happily wiped with your thumb before attaching your lips to his pink, throbbing tip. Giving it a small kiss, Joe watches you intently before you lick a stripe from base to tip causing him to roll his head back in pleasure.

"Holy shit ... fuck me." He groans.

Spitting on his tip, you watch it drip down before taking his whole cock in your mouth. With a hiss, Joe grabs the back of your head gently with one hand, silently begging you not to move.

"Fuck ... keep doing that and I'm gonna cum already." He mutters defeatedly.

Pushing down further, you let his tip hit the back of your throat, earning another loud groan from Joe. Slowly sucking all the way up to the top, you come off his tip with a 'pop' sound. 

Joe looks down at you with a darkness in his eyes that you had never seen before.

"C'mere baby." In one swift motion, he grabs your hips to lead you back up to the bed, pulling you back into his lap to unclip your bra and taste himself on your lips. Flipping you over onto your back, Joe pulls on your lower lip with his teeth mid-kiss, pulling off your skirt and underwear and quickly tossing them over with the rest of the clothes. Completely exposed now, Joe breaks from the kiss to stand back and look at your naked body.

His mouth parts slightly, shaking his head in disbelief. 

"So perfect." he mutters, looking you up and down.

Grabbing your ankles and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, he kneels in front of your dripping center, licking a stripe from your entrance to the top of your throbbing clit earning a loud moan from you.

"Joey!" you exclaim, already writhing from the contact.

Moving his hands to grip under your thighs, he holds you open to devour you. He starts with small kitten licks on your clit, kissing and sucking on the sensitive nub. 

No guy had ever gone down on you before, let alone knew where the clit was. So, to have someone be so attentive to your pleasure first was shocking and amazing.

Moving faster circles on your clit, Joe introduces two fingers into your entrance, sliding them in slowly.

Your back begins to arch and you feel that coil in your stomach.

"Joe ... oh my God.. y-yes please don't stop" you cry out. His assault on your clit is merciless as his fingers pump in and out of you faster and faster. His free hand won't let you rise far off the bed, he pins you down as you writhe beneath him in pleasure.

"Oh God Joey ... I'm gonna cum." you whine, egging him on to add a third finger inside of you.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you choke out a string of moans. Joe continues licking your clit softly as your orgasm tears through you. With your legs shaking, and breath hitched in your throat, Joe makes a string of kisses up your inner thigh as you come down from your high.

Flipping you over, he pulls your hips so your core meets his throbbing cock. Grabbing a condom from his pants pocket, he tears it open with hi mouth, adjusting it over himself.

With a smack to your ass, you jolt forward from the contact, moaning loudly. 

"So wet for me." He growls, sliding his tip up and down your entrance.

"Please, Joe." You whine, moving to your elbows to arch your ass higher in the air.

In one swift motion he penetrates you, earning a shocked gasp from you. You choke out a moan as you adjust to his size. He pumps in and out of you deep and hard, your bodies smacking together with each movement.

Your eyes flutter shut in pure bliss. There was no stopping the loud moans coming from you no matter who heard. And Joe's sweet affirmations about how tight and beautiful you were made it even harder not to cum right then and there. 

Joe suddenly pulls out to your dismay causing you to whine. He sits with his back against the headboard. "C'mere baby."

You crawl over to hima nd straddle his lap, taking him in your hand to position him at you entrance once again. Sinking down on top of him, you both moan in unison. 

"So good for me." He says, grpping your hips and grinding up into you. Your clit rubs against his lower stomach perfectly, adding to the already overwhelming sensation. He sucks on your right nipple making you cry out, digging your nails into his shoulders.

"Cum for me baby." He demands in a low, husky whisper.

You core tightens and your body begins to shake. Joe forces you down harder on him and moves your hips faster against him.

"Fuck - yes!" You whimper, slowing your movements and shuttering against him. Joe growls and tips his head back against the head board as he jerks up into you, reaching his own climax.

You collapse into him meeting his lips one last time before pulling off to lay beside him.

You find it hard to catch your breath as you come back to reality.

"You still think you're broken?" He asks with a cocky smile.

You rapidly shake your head and bite your lip. "Where have you been all my life?"

[bones4thecats]

What If They Had A Spider-Man! S/O

Characters: Angel Dust and Zestial (separate) Inspired By: These cute fanart pieces!!! (PsychicPains / lilminette / VisionsK. / TheAstawolf) and Chasm Spider-Man A/N: This was so much fun to write! Make sure to catch my Q&A here in a little bit! Btw, when I imagine the Reader drinking tea from a can in Zestial's, I could see them digging their mandibles into the can's side and drinking it like that. I just think I'd be funny. ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: SWEARING, mentions of attempted assault, threatening, physical harm, and the Reader being basically insane ⚠️

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╚═════ Angel Dust ═════════════════════════════╝

💊 Angel is a spider demon himself, so when you popped up one day causing trouble for multiple members of Hell, he found a quick connection with you

💊 Of course he started flirting with you when you first spoke, this is Angel Dust we're talking about!

"So, whatcha up to later tonight, Webslinger? How about coming to my room and using them energetic-webs for something a little more fun?~"

💊 But, after many, and I mean many failed attempts at getting into your pants, Angel Dust began to talk to you. He didn't reveal anything to detailed about himself, but you both would just sit down and talk about yourselves and hobbies like normal friends

💊 When you guys actually became a couple, you were fiercely defensive of him. One time, you saw some random loan shark try to touch Angel without his consent -which you knew he hated- and you shot your webs at his arm, pinning it to a nearby wall

"You fucking asshole! What the hell gives?!" The shark-demon yelled, making you tilt your forehead, since you couldn't show your true expressions through your mask.

"That's a mere strike one, loan shark. If I ever, and I mean ever see you try touching Angel again," you said, grabbing the sinner's free arm and twisting it painfully, "I will find you. And believe me, you don't wanna know what happens when I find my prey."

💊 Angel was shocked at how dangerous yet kind you were. A moment before you were twisting a guy's arm and threatening him with a very painful death that only he could imagine, and the next you were asking if the spider sinner wanted to be swung back to his place at the Hazbin Hotel

💊 Like I mentioned earlier, Angel Dust does connect with you well because you both are spider demons. He liked it when you would take off your mask in private and allow him to let his top pair of hands mess with your mandibles while his bottom pair messed around with your hands

💊 You have made him feel more safe than he ever has since he landed in Hell

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╚═════ Zestial ════════════════════════════════╝

🕷️ As a new troublesome Overlord who died back in the early 2000s, you had immediately landed yourself getting into issues around your new area

🕷️ When Zestial first met you, he treated you very chivalrously. He had bowed gently to you an introduced himself before you chuckled and did the same back to him, finding it funny in your own way

🕷️ He liked watching you during meetings. You would sit down beside him in your own web-made hammock and observed the others argue while drinking your own cup of tea (like the tea you would buy in cans)

🕷️ The day Velvette began offending Zestial was the one you merely shot a load of web over her mouth and began to laugh as she struggled to get it off of her face

"What, Velvette? Struggling to run your mouth even more than normal? How sad."

🕷️ Your current fiance smiled and chuckled lightly at how you then webbed the youngest Overlord up and knock her down onto the table, and how you crawled on the ceiling before hanging upside down and kissed Zestial's forehead with your mandibles

"Y/n, doth alloweth velvette's that from which we speak free from the entanglement of thy web." He said, laying his teacup down on the saucer.

🕷️ Sighing over-dramatically, you crawled over to Velvette's chair and tore the webbing off painfully, making her scream in pain and have a slightly noticeable amount of redness from the web

"You goddamn grandfather-fucker! What the hell is wrong with you?!" She yelled bitchily.

"You better shut your mouth or else this webbing may end up somewhere you'll have to soak to get it off without tearing your organs outside." You then shrugged, your face going from a cold and bloodthirsty one to a cheery and happy one. "Okay?"

🕷️ Velvette nodded fearfully as you chuckled and threw the now worn-out webbing into a nearby trash can before swinging back into your hammock and laying your head down while you messed with your phone

"Anon, shalt we continueth this meeting?"

(Y/n, doth alloweth velvette's that from which we speak free from the entanglement of thy web -> Y/N, do let Velvette's mouth free from the entanglement of your web. / Anon, shalt we continueth this meeting -> Now, shall we continue this meeting.)